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. V.GRAVF.n BY TM. WELc^I'EOMA DaGUERREOTYT'J 



.0 lOo'Po 



LIFE AND PAPERS 



OP 



M L. P. QEEE]^, D.D 



/ 



BY THE REV. WM. M. GREEK 



Edited by T. O. Summers, D.D. 



Nashville, Tenn.: 
SOUTHERN METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE. 

1877. 






KESOLUTION OF THE TENNESSEE CONFERENCE. 



Fayettea'ille, Tenx., Oct. 11, 1875. 

Resolved, That the Rev. W. M. Green be requested by the 
Tennessee Annual Conference to write the Biography of his 
honored and sainted father, the Rev. A. L. P. Green, D.D. 

James R. Plummer, 
Green P. Jackson, 
R. A. Young. 



/Z~22/o3^. 



"DUCITUB HONOEI TIBI.'* 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 

T. D. FITE AND F. W. GREEN, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



TO MY MOTHER, 

MKS. M. A. E. GREEN, 

WHO WAS INDEED A 

Helpmate to my Father, 

THESE PAGES 

Are Lovingly Inscribed, 



Contents. 



Life of Dr. Green. 

Paet Page 

1. The Covenant 1 

2. Adyice 4 

3. Forecasting 7 

4. Genesis 11 

5. Geoege Gkeen— Soldier and Christian 14 

6. The Boy Alexander 18 

7. School-boy 22 

8. Religious Boy and Interpreter 25 

9. The Journal — Exhorter 29 

10. First Appointment 33 

11. Jackson Circuit 37 

12. Jackson Circuit , 41 

13. Adventures and Other Matters 46 

14. Labors and Sickness 51 

15. Meetings and Incidents 58 

16. Camp-meetings and So-eorth 63 

17. Madison and Limestone Circuits 70 

18. Letters, Sickness, and Camp-meetings 77 

19. Second Year on the Limestone Circuit 85 

20. The Madison — His Last Circuit 89 

Cv) 



VI CONTENTS. 

^-'^^^' PAeK 

21. Nashville Station— Garrett and Gwin 93 

22. Nashville Station — Bishop McKendree 98 

23. The Second Year in Nashville 102 

24. His Marriage and His Homes 107 

25. Franklin Station — Medicine and General Confer- 

ence ^ 112 

26. Kevjew of the Last Chapter— Nashville Station.. 116 

27. Cumberland District — Bishop McKendree 122 

28. Nashville Again— His Preacher Associates 134 

29. Nashville Station — Canada Question 140 

30. Incidentals on the District 145 

31. HisTORiA Sacra 149 

32. Doctor OF Divinity 153 

33. The Church Suits 157 

34. Slavery and Dr. Green 165 

S5. Camp-meeting Incidents 169 

36. Dr. Green and Children 174 

37. Philanthropy and Other Matters 179 

38. The Angler and Angling 189 

39. Literary — What the Brethren Say 201 

40. The Commander 207 

41. The Green Memorial 215 

42. Home, Humor, and Business 223 

43. Dr. Green and the War 231 

44. Some of the Beatitudes 235 

45. Dr. Green — Publishing Interests 240 

46. Our Mosaic 244 

47. Dr. Green and the Schools 255 



CONTENTS. Vll 

_, Page 

Part 

48. Last Conferences— Sufferings '^^^ 

49. His Death and Burial 270 

50. Testimony of the Brethren 276 



Dr. Green's Papers. 

Stories - ^^^ 

Donor and the Ditcher " 285 

The Alpine Hunter 315 

Burning of the Yallabusha 333 

An Arkansas Story 341 

An Indian Legend 350 

A Western Story 358 

A Stranger's Grave 365 

A Tornado 368 

The Twins and their Angels 372 

Lolla's Laugh 383 

Notes or Travel 390 

A Live Tennesseean Abroad 390 

Letters 

Country-meeting Experiences 448 

A Visit to Baltimore 457 

Mr. Dixon ^^^ 

Hurricane Springs 469 

Memphis Conference 473 

Hot Springs, Arkansas 477 

Bishops' Meeting in St. Louis 487 

The Church Litorests 491 



VIU CONTEXTS. 

Page 
Conference and Missions 493 

The Church, North and Soutli 500 

Manly's Camp-meeting ', 519 

Camp-meeting at Cedar Hill 524 

North Alabama Conference 527 

Anecdotes 531 

Minor and the Hog 531 

The Piney- woods Broker 533 

The Gin-house Man 535 

The Dutchman Adam 536 

Jim and his Master 537 

Fishing 539 

Fins and Scales — A Lecture 539 

Treasures of Big Bottom 542 

On Buffalo Creek 551 

Miscellany 557 

Family Government 557 

Superstition 559 

Bishop Soule 562 

The Pulpit 667 

Old Benhadad 570 

The Memoser 575 

Poetry 584 

The Eev. S. D. Baldwin, D.D 584 

The Kev. Elisha Carr 588 

The Eev. G. W. D. Harris, D.D 589 

Loneliness 590 

Lines on Lerissa Hughes 591 



Life and Papers of Dr. Green. 




1. 

The Covenant. 

WILL attempt to utilize this introduc- 
tion: it shall be a covenant between the 
reader and the author. 

First: I will make known — which will 
be comforting — that my chapters will be short. 
This resolve is made up from the deposit of sober 
experience. I have read books and longed for the 
ends of the chapters. A short chapter, like a short 
dress, has a pleasant, tidy look. I have observed 
an expression of hearty satisfaction on the faces of 
the audience as the last page of the obese manu- 
script trembled in the fingers of the wonderful ora- 
tor from abroad. The friends whom I love to meet 
on the street are those from whom I can easily pull 
away. To afford the reader certain pleasure, in the 
absence of other refreshments, I will multiply the 
chapter endings. However, I must reserve the priv- 
ilege of extending a chapter when it refuses to end. 
To stop with a jerk is just as disastrous to a vmter 

(1) 



2 THE COVENANT. 

as to a rider. Indeed, there is some afiinity between 
horses and hooks, in that tliey are both given to 
tricks. Many a poor preacher, meaning mischief to 
no one, has been censured for preaching ninety 
minutes, when he w^as doing his level best for fifty 
minutes to stop. We will not allow a chapter, after 
the end falls due, more than three pages of grace. 

Second: As I never think of myself in the plural 
number, I must be allowed to use the singular ; this 
is not vanity, but bravery. The first person plural 
may shift or divide responsibility; the first person 
singular can do neither. I must also enter a reserve 
at this point. / will use we, when a plurality of 
interests and logical symmetry demand it. / and 
we may meet occasionally in the same sentence. 

Third: I must be allowed to ignore, as far as 
space will allows initials — except as to given-names. 
The general run of authors are stingy in distribut- 
ing immortality; they argue that an obscure man 
might be intoxicated with importance by seeing his 
undisguised name set up in a book — if a business 
man, it might afi:ect his usefulness. Some man, 
good at enigmas, might guess that J. W. stands for 
John Wesley; it can stand just as well for James 
Wright; and, really, it is the name of neither. We do 
not refer to John Milton and William Shakespeare 
as J. M. and W. S. If a man be obscure, why in- 
tensify it by the use of initials that may stand for 
a full score of names in the census report of a 
county tow^n ? No : if I have any spring of renown, 
I invite my friends by name to come and drink. 

I must express my gratitude to a host of friends 



THE COVENANT. 3 

who have furnished me with vakiable matter. The 
major portion of these communications have been 
carefully dissected — have passed through the pulp 
state and under the roller; this was to make them 
lit, and to make them true. If the reader does not 
recognize his or her letter in these pages, he or she 
may rest assured that the verbiage has been alche- 
mized into something else. If a few scarlet and 
crimson letters have passed through without oblit- 
erating the dyes, it was because they, defied the 
chemicals. 

What he has written seems to me no more 
Than I have thought a thousand times before. 




2. 

Advice. 

MA^N" of great moral courage is one who 
listens patiently and kindly to advice. 
As I grow older I find myself more fear- 
ful of making mistakes, and, hence, have 
an almost morbid readiness to hear suggestions. 
My very best friends have been kind to advise me. 
In the outlook we will take np a few of these sug- 
gestions ; for sometimes right behind the wise ob- 
servations of a friend a delicate idea may be linked 
on, that could not climb a grade without some 
stronger power in front. 

An old and tried friend of my father — Bishop 
Paine — writes: "You must take time, and don't 
hesitate because you are his son. While modest 
about his life and labors, do him justice. Keep to 
your own style: I want to see the Green in the 
book." This was just the advice I wanted, only 
that I was not aware that I had a style, the igno- 
rance of which may cause me to mix the colors a little. 
Dr. Joseph B. Walker — one of my father's few 
regular correspondents — writes: "Bring out the 
work as soon as you can with justice to your father 
and yourself He had a vast number of old friends; 
(4) 



ADVICE. 5 

but almost every month some one of them passes 
away. These old friends are precisely the class that 
will take most interest in the story of his useful 
and honored life." 

I have a letter from my old pastor and tutor, Dr. 
Edward Wadsworth. He says: "I determined to 
write and advise you to take a full measure of time 
for the work." I have also a short communication 
from Dr. Anson West, who says: ''Do not be in 
too great haste. Do your work as quick as you can, 
but take time to complete it. When it is published 
it will be too late to make corrections." Though 
the advice of Dr. West is good, yet upon reading 
it I was troubled in spirit. I felt slow — exceeding 
slow. I felt like a dying man as to time. Would 
I, and could I, do the work right? I resolved to 
take the advice of my friends to the utmost limit 
of possibility. I resolved not to disparage or say 
little humble things about myself. 

I have other samples of advice, mixed in with 
something else that poor human nature is very fond 
of, which I turn over to the imagination of the 
reader. 

Patient and sympathetic reader ! There may be 
a slight vein of the humorous permeating this book. 
Please do not be stern and exceeding proper ! Come 
down from your dignity and hear me! "Out of 
the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." 
It was uppermost: I could not help it. Bear in 
mind, the greatest humorist is the greatest of phi- 
losophers. The man who has no sense of the ludi- 
crous eats the dry comb, and never tastes one drop 



6 ADVICE. 

of the honey. Bring the jokeless man here, and I 
will place my hand on his head and say, Poor 
fellow ! 

Be it known that I have sprinkled with my tears 
this poor offering to the memory of my father. 

Mirth is the medicine of life: 
It cures its ills, it calms its strife; 
It softly soothes the brow of Care, 
And writes a thousand graces there. 



3. 

Forecasting. 

Miseret me tui. 




lOIN'Gl back to the farthest limit of my 
memory, Bishop Paine was the guest of 
my father whenever he came to Nashville. 
My love for him was hereditary, and my 
admiration commensurate with my love. A Chry- 
sostom of Methodism, his mouth is golden. Kindly 
anticipating my wants, he has tendered a golden- 
worded leader, which I insert in full: 

" I pity you, and yet I almost envy you. You 
have consented to become the biographer of your 
father. Ko kind of writing, if well done, is more 
difficult, and none more rare. With abundant ma- 
terials, a fine subject, with leisure, and a high repu- 
tation for scholarship, nearly all who have attempted 
this path of literature have failed. Heralded by 
the publishers, and noticed with extravagant praise 
by a few newspapers and partial friends, the little 
sensation produced at first soon subsides into indif- 
ference. Its doom is death ; and why? Sometimes 
it is not so much the fault of the writer or his work 
as of his readers. The portraiture of religious 
character does not strike the fancy of the populace; 

(7) 



8 



FORECASTING. 



and the reading portion of the Christian community, 
who shoukl feel the greatest interest in it, is too 
small and unappreciative. Politics, finance, the 
local and general news of the day— not to mention 
personal and family cares— engross the mind, and 
leave but little time for other and better thoughts. 
But the fact is, most works of this class, whatever 
the merits of the subjects may be, are very excep- 
tionable. What we demand in the history of a 
friend is that he be drawn naturally, fully, honestly, 
and concisely, as truth and justice will allow. The 
attempt to make him a hero, a martyr, a faultlessly 
great man or minister, without human foible or 
w^eakness, is a common and capital defect. When 
his true excellence in one respect is so exaggerated 
in giving his relative character, preeminence is 
claimed for him over others, and thinking people 
are simply disgusted, and lay the book down. Such 
an attempt places subject and writer at a damaging 
discount, and is resented as a silly effort of a mock 
auctioneer to palm off his common delf-ware for 
the finest porcelain. We want to see our friend, 
and not the man who purposes to show him off'— to 
see him as he was, and is, and will ever be, in the 
great, truthful record of his real life. We knew 
him as a man, a friend, a brother; a noble, God- 
gifted, loved and loving man, but without wings- 
no angel. We hope he is now an angel-man; but 
we only knew him as a man, and not only as a man, 
but the man, contradistinguished from other men. 
And as the greatest and best of men are only men, 
and must eternally retain their personal identity. 



FORECASTING. • 9 

we neither expect nor desire that they shall lose 
themselves and become merged in any imaginary 
community. 

''While we ask for the fair and truthful presen- 
tation of character, we are far from wishing that a 
biographer should detail all the peculiarities and 
weaknesses which, in a great or less degree, attach 
to all human beings. In this category we do not 
include what is criminal — not an eclipse, but spots 
which are lost to sight in the effulgence of the sun. 
Charity, and even justice, can afford to throw a veil 
over all those defects and peculiarities which are 
not inconsistent with Christian morals. 

"I said, 'I pity you;' and so I do. Not because 
of your father's character — I believe it stainless, 
and beautifully consistent; nor because I distrust 
your ability, under fair circumstances, to do him 
justice; but because I conjecture your written mate- 
rials may be scant, and your pastoral and ministe- 
rial duties too exacting to allow sufficient leisure 
for such a difficult and delicate work. I almost 
envy the high and holy pleasure which iilial rever- 
ence and love must realize in delineating such a 
father, and thus photograph upon mind and heart 
the image of one so dear to you and many of us 
who knew him long and loved him so much. 

"In speaking of your task as difficult and deli- 
cate, I do not allude to extraordinary endowments 
in any particular line, and especially to any strik- 
ing peculiarity giving eccentricity to character, to 
which it might be hard for you to do justice. Such 
men are so angular that they touch society at cer- 



10 



FORECASTING. 



tain points only, and rarely accomplish much for 
the general good. 

'' The artist who paints a landscape finds not the 
severest test of his skill in sketching scenery where 
a few rugged hills and lofty mountains rise to view, 
but in minutely and faithfully delineating the va- 
ried charm of a scene where sublimity and grandeur 
are subordinated to beauty, utility, and" life-like 
copies of nature and art. Then the ideal becomes 
realized, and the copy the original. Thus the diffi- 
culty of the artist's work lies principally not in the 
bold and bare outlines, but in the delicate blending 
of tints, forms, and shades, which make it 'n thing 
of beauty ' and ' a joy forever.' The best picture is 
the most natural." 

A book's a book, although there's nothing in't. 




4. 

Genesis. 

LEXAI^DER LITTLE PAGE GREEN 

was born in Sevier county, Tennessee, 
June 26, 1806. He was one of sixteen 
children, the youngest of seven brothers, 
and the son of George and Judith Green. He w^as 
called Page for the Rev. John Page, who was a dis- 
tinguished preacher in his day, and died only a few 
years since in extreme old age. Alexander being 
very small at his birth, the Little was added to his 
name as a kind of sobriquet. When he was quite a 
child his father removed from Sevier to Rhea county, 
Tennessee, and from Rhea county, after a few years' 
residence, to J^orth Ahibama, where he settled in 
Honey-comb Valley, in Jackson county, and re- 
mained till his death in 1823. 

As the history and character of the parents have 
much to do with the future of the child, I will fur- 
nish some imperfect memories of George and Judith 
Green. 

I w^as entertained for a time with a family tradi- 
tion that George Green w^as born in Virginia, w^as 
a worthy cion of one of the second families. This 
was set aside by his daughter, Mrs. Maria Prentice, 



12 



GENESIS. 



and his grandson, Mr. W. A. Green, who both tes- 
tify, on good authority, that he was a Marylander, 
out of one of the first families. He was born 
shortly after his parents came over from " Merrie 
England;" and, while he was not ''of the Puri- 
tans," there was a broad vein of Puritanism in his 
religious habit. At all events, he had either heard 
of or read the Blue Laws; and there may have been 
a picture of the "Mayflower" on the stained-glass 
front of his clock, if he had a clock. 

George Green married Judith Spillmon, a girl of 
fifteen, in 1776, the first year of American Inde- 
pendence. Judith was born in Albemarle county, 
Virginia, in 1761. She was converted the year of 
her marriage, and joined the despised Methodists 
eight years before the formal organization of the 
Methodist Episcopal Church in America. 

Dr. J. B. McEerrin, in a beautiful tribute, says: 
"This happy pair lived together forty-seven years. 
They were pioneers in three States— Virginia, Ten- 
nessee, and Alabama. Judith Green was a woman 
of remarkable intellect, and deeply read in the 
Scriptures. It was a source of exquisite pleasure 
to her that she had borne and reared a son for the 
ministry." 

Her religion, in expression, was not exactly the 
parallel of her husband's. It was just as good as 
to quality, but of the balmy, gentle kind. It lay 
away in her heart like a lake guarded by mount- 
ains, knowing no storms, but expressed in gentle- 
ness and devotion to her family and friends. I re- 
member her well, as she spent the latter years of 



GENESIS. 13 

her life in my father's family. Like her son Alex- 
ander, she was very fond of children, and many de- 
lightful hours have I spent listening to her stirring 
tales of border strife. Lamented and beloved, she 
withered away, March 18, 1846, at the home of her 
son in Kashville, closing a long life of eighty-live 
years, and a membership of seventy years in the 
Methodist Church. 

There woman's voice flows forth in song. 

And childhood's merry tale is told. 
Or lips move tunefully along 

Some glorious page of old. 




5. 
George Green — Soldier and Christian. 

EORGE GREEN, shortly after his mar- 
riage in 1776, joined the American army. 
He served for a time in the command of 
General Greene. He was one of the im- 
mortal nine hundred patriots who drove the boast- 
ing Ferguson from King's Mountain. He was in 
other engagements, but in after life had but little to 
say about his military career. He fought simply 
from a sense of duty, and after the war was over 
laid it all silently aside, as a sad but necessary task 
that had been performed. He remarked to my 
father, when conversing on the subject of physical 
bravery, that he always experienced a sense of dread 
when going into an engagement, but after the battle 
commenced, and he began handling his gun, this all 
left him. 

George Green Avas emphatically — in politics and 
religion — a man of the period. The Sabbath in 
his family was kept holy in a strictly literal sense. 
The German idea of making the Sabbath partly 
holy and partly just any thing else had not ob- 
tained at that day. 'No manner of work was per- 
mitted on Sunday that could possibly be performed 
(U) 



GEORGE GREEN — SOLDIER AND CHRISTIAN. 15 

on Saturday. Xo book but the Bible was read by 
any member of tlie family on this consecrated day. 
'No visiting, jesting, or loud talking was allowed. 
Whistling was a grave oflense. To laugh expressed 
a giddy, worldly mind. The children moved about 
slowly and noiselessly, as though some member of 
the family were very ill or dead. The Sabbath was 
a still, awful, solemn day. In striking contrast to 
the bright, cheerful Sunday of to-day was the Sun- 
day in George Green's family only fifty years ago. 
]^ot that I ever heard any expression from my 
father's lips censuring the severe religion and 
home-government of his father; yet I am inclined 
to believe that Sunday was not the most pleasant 
day in the week in George Green's family; but it 
was just in keeping with the family discipline of 
that time. Those ribs of solid steel in the charac- 
ter of the father — so hard and stern — w^ere melted 
down into attractive graces in the son. Who knows ? 
the Deity may have foreseen the necessity of shap- 
ing for himself, in these molds of iron, a man of 
powder. We may condemn the severity of the pon- 
derous seal, but the impression is eternal. My 
father frequently remarked that the austerity of 
his father had a tendency to incline him in the op- 
posite direction. 

Religion has not changed; like the songs of the 
birds, it is the same now that it was a hundred years 
ago. The men of the frontier were natural men, 
with natural hearts and natural minds. Like the 
great trees under which they delighted to worship, 
they were unfertilized and untrained. The pioneers 



16 GEORGE GREEN — SOLDIER AND CHRISTIAN. 

were brusk in manner, with strong impulses, and 
their religion partook of the storminess and natu- 
ralness of its weather-heaten professors. This was 
the heroic age, and religion carried with it the clang 
of the sword, the rush of the combatants, and the 
shout of victory. 

I am not prepared to laud the past and bemean 
the present. It is not a part of ray philosophy that 
dead things are the best just because they are dead, 
and the longer they have been dead the better they 
become. I have no more respect for a mummy than 
for a fresh corpse. I do not respond Amen to the 
old saints who, in their prayers at meeting, celestial- 
ize the past, and gehennaize the present. Yes, I do 
believe that the generous "leaven" of Christianity 
will continue to extend its iniluence until the whole 
lump of humanity is leavened. I cannot say — truth 
will not allow it — that the religion of my grand- 
father was better than the religion of my father. 
They both may have attained, with some difference 
of expression, the same ultimatum of faith. The 
model of George Green was John Wesley; the 
model of A. L. P. Green was the archetype of all 
true religion, or that which is lovely, and that which 
is best. 

George Green owned no slaves. It may be that 
he had conscientious scruples, as many of the old 
Methodists had, on that subject. I suspect he was a 
non-slaveholder for two pretty good reasons: first, 
he did not want them; second, he was not able to 
own them. 

Waiving his excessive austerity, which Avas hardly 



GEORGE GREEN — SOLDIER AND CHRISTIAN. 17 

a crime, George Green was a good man and hospit- 
able. His house was the preaching-place for many 
years. Coke and Asbury shared his good cheer; 
and Dr. J. B. McFerrin, when a beardless boy, min- 
istered in holy things under his roof. 

True religion 
Is always mild, propitious, and humble; 
Plays not the tyrant. 




6. 
The Boy Alexandek. 

LEXANDER was the youngest boy, and, 
just like the youngest boy in all families, 
was favored the most. Whether the rigid 
[)iety of George Green would allow him 
to make pets of his children may be questioned; 
but I have it from the very best authority that 
Alexander was favored — it may have been by his 
sisters and brothers, it may have been (we do not 
know positively to the contrary) by his father. "We 
all know that he was favored by his mother — and 
why? Just because he was the youngest of seven 
boys. Mothers, in all ages, have been the same. 
Governments change, sciences change — mothers do 
not. 

Alexander was required to do but little hard 
work on the farm. If there had been but two 
boys, we might falter in this record; but who ever 
heard of the youngest of seven boys working, except 
for fun? Such a statement would cross-pile all fam- 
ily history. Alexander plowed just a little. Boys 
love to plow till they get large enough to make reg- 
nlar hands. Alexander brought water from the 
spring — that was not work; he chopped wood at 
(18) 



THE BOY ALEXANDER. 19 

the pile — that was not work; he drove up the cows — 
that was not work; he went to mill — that was play. 
He may have carried the grist in one end of the 
hag and a rock in the other; did not other hoys, 
and even men, do that? and did not the miller re- 
gard the rock as legitimate? 

I cannot resist the temptation of stopping for a 
while at the mill. I have an attachment for an old 
mill — not a steam-mill, hut a water-mill — there is 
so much to entertain a hoy: old loggerheads float- 
ing around, an occasional musk-rat or a mink, 
rusty moccasins peering at you from the crevices 
of the rock dam; and then, when the sun goes 
down, the owls come, and armies of hobgoblins 
march around. .Besides, it is such a gossipy place 
for the old rheumatic men, who can do nothing on 
the farm but feed the hogs, make an ax-helve, and 
go to mill. The old men and the mills of eighteen 
eighteen have been swept away by the floods of time. 
The great wheel that churned the blue water into 
foam is still, and the stories of the old patriots, 
mixed with the roar of the waters, have passed out 
into the unknown deep. 

Although the word favored has been furnished 
by tradition, we will give Alexander the credit of 
being an active boy in doing little offices for his 
mother. 

Whether the partial exemption from hard labor 
had to do with the better development of the flner 
nervous organism of this youngest boy — whether 
his mind was stronger because of immunity from 
the gross vassalage of the body, are questions that 



20 THE BOY ALEXANDER. 

belong to sublime physics. Labor omnia vincit does 
not necessarily mean to conquer bad things, but 
may mean to subdue good things. I have known 
intense coercive labor to destroy both energy and 
spirit. It is a false idea that there is ''nobility in 
labor." Nobility is inherent in energy. Labor is 
not the cause, but the result. 

Alexander Little Page Green was not born a man; 
he was a boy, with all the boyishness of boys: lit- 
tered up the house, teased his sisters, carried strings 
and nails in his pockets, chunked the hogs, was fond 
of horses and a gun, was afraid of ghosts, made a 
great ado on Christmas with bladders and cane 
guns, was always hungry, just like a boy of 1877. 

I must state an amusing incident of his boyhood, 
which I have from his own lips. What the offense* 
was he does not state, but he became very much 
offended, and determined to spite the whole family 
by starving to death. To carry out his purpose he 
selected the chimney-jamb behind the kitchen — the 
very place of all places most unsuitable for starv- 
ing. All the afternoon he stood there; he could 
hear what was said in the kitchen; he was mortified 
that his mother did not mention his name. If she 
would call him, or ask some one about where he 
was — but not a word was spoken concerning him. 
Night came, and his mother expressed no surprise 
at his absence; preparations were made for supper; 
the oven and skillet received the savory meal; and 
at last — for there is an end of comedy as well as 
tragedy — the aroma of the renowned broiled ham, 
that has whetted the appetites of millions, found its 



THE BOY ALEXANDER. 21 

way through the chinks, reached the olfactories of 
Alexander, and dashed his stern resolve. His con- 
clusion was to eat one piece of broiled ham, and 
then starve. 

Alexander was a boy of very quick temper. This 
seems fabulous to his most intimate friends in after 
years, who only knew his calm exterior. He relates 
this circumstance: He was plowing, when the horse 
became unruly, very restive; and the young plow- 
man, furious with anger, and screaming at the top 
of his voice, dropped the line, rushed forward, and 
bit the poor beast on the ear. The student of psy- 
chology can readily understand how this latent fire, 
subsequently kept in bounds by a nice sense of 
justice, prudence, charity, and propriety, resolved 
itself into a force that we call energy. Men carry 
in their back and lower brains magazines of power, 
if kept in abeyance by a trained and active will. 
The tender is no more essential to the engine than 
a good, strong back brain is to a vigorous intellect. 

And the mother looks from the cottage-door 
To see how the night comes over the moor, 
And calls the children home. 




7. 
School-boy. 

LEXAx^DER was brought up and edu- 
cated just like any other boy in the wild 
woods, who had religious parents. In 
his mental training there was just a little 
of art and an exuberance of nature. There was not 
much science in the log school-house, but there was 
a great deal to be learned outside of it. The cur- 
riculum, of the frontier school was geography, read- 
ing, spelling, ciphering^ and a little English gram- 
mar. An education then was not merely an auxil- 
iary accomplishment, but something intensely prac- 
tical — ^just as real as a plow, and valued not for its 
polish or honor, but for its utility. The boys and 
girls were not carried very far up the hill of science, 
but when the school-days were past, and they entered 
upon the duties of real life, they could at least 
parse "I lament my fate," and calculate simple 
interest. 

The frontier school-teacher was after the pattern 
of the other settlers — not so important as the circuit- 
rider, not so influential as the squire, but respected 
as a man of letters, and looked up to in all matters 
pertaining to his vocation. Like the traveling 
(22) 



SCHOOL-BOY. 23 

preacher, he staid around, but in a much smaller 
circuit, for he staid with the scholars. He was an 
autocrat, from whose decisions there was no appeal. 
Whether Alexander's teacher was a Scotchman or 
an Irishman we know not. We conjecture that he 
was a stout man, had a will and a way, and was in 
command of the situation, except on Christmas- day. 

The log school-house was intensely primitive; it 
was built by the settlers around in one day; no 
desks were dreamed of; the room was seated with 
puncheons; and the teacher, if an old man, might 
aspire to a split-bottom chair. Female teachers 
were rare, for the reason that they did not carry the 
muscle. 

The border schools were all mixed. It was not 
considered a thing impracticable then for boys and 
girls to attend the same school. We opine that a 
strained delicacy has had somewhat to do with the 
division of the sexes in the schools of the present 
day. Human nature is just as good now as it was 
sixty years ago. May I venture? — the spirit of 
Protestantism, which elevates and sanctifies, is op- 
posed to any reflection upon the purity of the sexes 
in any educational or religious department. 

While writing this I am very sad because only 
small fragments are left us of histories that we love 
most. Indeed, what we have, compared to what is 
lost, is as the microcosm compared to the macrocosm. 
Those happy, shining ones that gathered in the 
old school-house, the lessons said, the pranks they 
played, the idle words they spoke — gone, gone! 
like the leaves of the forest, dropped and floating 



24 SCHOOL-BOY. 

upon the winds away, away ! and we stand looking 
into the void, crying. Come back! come back! The 
days of my father's childhood and youth, like a 
procession of stars, have marched down the zenith, 
and are hid behind the horizon of more than fifty 
years ago. The grass is just as green, and the trees 
are just as grand, and the birds sing as sweetly; but 
where is the old log school-house, and the brown 
hands and feet of the children? Stop! it is all 
written in the Book of Remembrance — "now we 
know in part; but then shall we know even as 
also we are known.'' 

They have waded the shallows below the mill, 
They have gathered wild roses on the hill, 
A crown for each tangled head. 




8. 
Religious Boy and Inteepreter. 

HAVE heard of religious children — not 
naturally religious, but trained from the 
cradle to behave and believe. I have read 
of the good children in the Sunday-school 
hooks, who just will die under the most favorable 
circumstances. Little Alexander might pass for a 
religious child. He was consecrated from his birth 
to the Church and the ministry. The Holy Ghost 
called, and his mother — a royal priestess — answered. 
She began the preparation at once. The priestly 
garments of Alexander were the prayers. Christian 
counsel, and example of his mother. Her prayers 
admitted no question or doubt. She prayed and 
believed, and Alexander preached. 

He says in his Journal that he professed religion 
August 25, 1815. This makes him an active Chris- 
tian w^hen he was just nine years and twenty-nine 
days old. He embraced religion during a camp- 
meeting in Rhea county, Tennessee. His father 
was one of the campers, and lived only one-half of 
a mile from the camp-ground. I am persuaded 
from his own statement, and that of Mrs. Prentice — 
his sister — that he was not converted in the altar at 

-' (2r.) 



26 RELIOIOUS BOY AND TXTI- RPRETER. 

the stand, but in a rude chapel in his father's house, 
Avhere service was being held on Sunday night after 
the camp-meeting service was over. His own state- 
ment is that he and an old negro woman were the 
only penitents; that when the invitation for seekers 
was extended, he crawled under the benches up to 
the mourner's seat. His sister farther states that 
after his conversion (the next morning), he came 
back to the camp-ground, and commenced talking 
to the mourners; that he joined the Church, and 
that her father imt hirii to graying in imhlic, A boy 
nine years of age praying iu public, and put to 
praying b}^ his father, is an illuminated chapter that 
might w^ell be written on the foreheads of those 
w^ho oppose the religion of children. 

W. A. Green informs us that after George Green 
removed to Alabama, Alexander returned to the 
old neighborhood in Rhea county, and w^ent to 
school two years. While he was going to school 
here, old Sister Gotheard said she had often heard 
him conclude religious service by singing, prayer, 
and exhortation, when his head was just above the 
book-board. Old Brother Gotheard called him his 
" boy-preacher." 

I am not sorry to state that there was nothing 
particularly remarkable about A. L. P. Green's con- 
version; it was not Pauline, but just an ordinary 
experience that any true penitent might have; and 
I sincerely believe that the Church has been af- 
flicted long enough with those remarkable conver- 
sions which make vain the expectations of so many 
well-meaninff seekers after Christ. Thousands of 



RELIGIOUS BOY AND INTERPRETER. 27 

non -professors, who should be in the Church, spir- 
itual and strong, are now, and have been, tramping 
on their way to Damascus, straining their eyes in 
search of the bright and miraculous. 

Besides the members of his father's family, we 
have the name of only one man who was a member 
of the Society to which Alexander belonged, and 
that was Hughey McPhail, afterward a member of 
the Tennessee Conference. 

At the age of sixteen, Alexander was appointed 
class-leader, which appointment he held about one 
year. We have here an example of Methodist suc- 
cession : George Green prayed in public — he put 
his son to praying; George Green was a class- 
leader — his son succeeds him. We can imagine the 
delicacy of the situation. In this class were Alex- 
ander's parents, and other members of the family, 
and straight old pioneers, with consciences of ex- 
quisite tenderness, and behold! a little child in 
Christian experience w^as leading them. A class- 
leader then w^as a very important functionary. He 
was a sub-pastor, having the spiritual care of his 
class. This was necessary, as the circuit-rider^ having 
a very large field, knew^ but little personally of a great 
many of his members. Alexander was, no doubt, 
appointed leader of the class because of the declin- 
ing health of his father, who died about this time. 

It was about 1821, according to Dr. R. A. Young's 
statement, when Alexander saw his first distin- 
guished man. "A venerable and scholarly gentle- 
man came to stay all night. The boy learned that 
the stranger was an author, that he had actually 



28 RELIGIOUS BOY AND INTERPRETER. 

written a book. In after years the Doctor used to 
tell, in his inimitable way, how he stood off and 
looked at the great man, and how he sat for hours 
in mute astonishment and listened to his conversa- 
tion. It was the Rev. Thomas Stringlield." 

We do not know exactly the date, but sometime 
in his teens Alexander was thrown a good deal with 
the Creek and Cherokee Indians, particularly the 
Creeks, who, with the Cherokees, had, before their 
removal to the West, fifty villages in the Valley of 
the Tennessee. Alexander, with the quick percep- 
tion of a boy, soon picked up enough of the rude 
language of the savages to conduct an intelligible 
conversation, and was employed for a time by the 
traders as an interpreter. His brother Berry held 
a contract from the Government to feed the Indians. 
He states that for several months, while in the em- 
ploy of the traders, he was without a covering of 
any sort for his head. His life among the Indians, 
while it furnished him a great deal of information 
as to the habits and character of the red men, and 
the aboriginal history of the country, afforded him a 
rich fund for conversation in succeeding years. His 
fondness for field-sports may have been acquired 
during his stay with the Indians. 

Many years had elapsed, and Dr. Green found a 
lone Creek sitting on a curb-stone in Nashville. 
He walked up behind him and spoke to him in his 
own tongue, when he sprang to his feet as if he 
had been shot. "What do you want?" inquired 
the Doctor. "I want some of that hissing cider ^'^ 
answered the Indian, pointing to a soda-fount. 




9. 

The Journal — Exhorter. 

HAVE before me the Journal of my 
father. It has the weather-beaten sweat- 
marks of active service, for it was writ- 
ten upon the field. Julius Cesar swam 
a river with his Commentaries between his teeth. 
If a good overhanded swimmer, he kept them dry. 
Our soldier of Immanuel (we know not when nor 
where) failed to carry his Journal in his mouth, for 
he soaked it most thoroughly in unfiltered water. 
The quill pens used were very .good, but the ink 
was pale, or watered, or too black, and the pages 
were not lined. So the Journal comes to us both 
legible and illegible; but I have read it all except 
some of the proper names, which cannot even be 
surmised. It extends over eight years, beginning 
in the autumn of 1 824. It is closely kept for four 
years; the remaining four years have only an item 
now and then. Its long life is remarkable. A 
journal of personal experiences can hardly be placed 
among the annuals. At first its breathing is regu- 
lar and quick; then it is taken with an asthma; 
then, in a sleepy, intermittent spell, it dies exceeding 
dead. Of course this Journal, taking it as a whole, 

(29) 



30 THE JOURNAL — EXHORTER. 

is of no general interest to the reader, as it is, in the 
main, a string of preaching appointments. We 
propose, as we pass on, to take ont an item here and 
there for the delectation of the reader. We quote 
verbatim : 

" In August, 1824, 1 was licensed to exhort, and, in 
a few weeks after, went on Paint Rock Circuit with 
the Rev. Barton Brown. The first day he preached, 
and the second day I preached for the first time. 
The next day he preached, and the day following 
he left me on the circuit to fill his appointments, 
which I did, and at some places there was consider- 
able work." 

At that time a license to exhort was almost inva- 
riably the forerunner of a license to preach. The 
exhortation was virtually the preacher's trial, in 
which he proved his suitableness "in gifts and 
graces to preach the gospel." Our exhorter calls 
his exhortation preaching, and I suppose he selected 
a text and preached a regular sermon. He was 
licensed to exhort with a license to preach in view. 
I rather like the plan. 

The Rev. R. K. Brown furnishes us witli some 
precious history, which he gathered from the lips 
of his sainted father, the Rev. Barton Brown, who 
says: "I joined the Conference several years before 
Alex. Green, and remember him, then a boy of 
eighteen or twenty. He often went round the cir- 
cuit with me, and exhorted; and he was a very fine 
exhorter. One day I said: 'Alex., you must preach 
to-day at eleven.' This was the first time. Wc 
were at a house not far from the church ; it was 



THE JOURNAL — EXHORTER. 31 

about eight o'clock in the morning. The young 
preacher sought a pUice for private prayer, and 
finally found a large stump standing about twenty 
yards from the fence in a field of tall green corn, 
and thither he repaired for strength and wisdom 
from on high for the first and great work of his 
life. Not once did he go, but eleven times in three 
hours; so that he made a beaten path by passing 
twenty-two times to and fro to wrestle with God. 
At eleven o'clock he did preach, sure enough. 
Shortly after, I left the circuit for a time in his 
charge, and on my return found him the biggest 
preacher of the two, and he has been so ever 
since." 

This worthy senior, the Rev. Barton Brown, w^as 
called np higher only a few months before his jun- 
ior companion. How natural that he should step 
into the chariot just a little in advance! He leaves 
the odor of a good name, and, best of all, two suc- 
cessors of his own blood and bone — Hardie and 
Robert K. — who belong to the '' rank and file." 

As the Church in Honey-comb Yalley, to which 
Mr. Green belonged, was upon the line of two ap- 
pointments — the Jackson and Paint Rock Circuits — 
and was shifted from one circuit to the other from 
year to year, it is left to inference whether in the 
former or the latter he received his license to exhort. 
His association with Mr. Brown points to the Paint 
Rock Circuit, upon which the Rev. Richard F. 
Jarret was preacher in charge, and the Rev. Barton 
Brown junior preacher. At the same time the 
Rev. James McFerrin and the Rev. Arthur Mc- 



6Z THE JOURNAL — EXHORTER. 

Clure were on the Jackson Circuit. The Rev. 
William McMahon was Presiding Elder on the 
Huntsville District, Tennessee Conference. 

He most Hves 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the noblest. 




10. 
First Appointment. 

S we are dealing with biographical land- 
marks that were "real and earnest," we 
desire to he strictly canonical^ and must 
refer the reader back to the testimony in 
the old Journal. 

After Mr. Green has been exercising his gifts as 
an exhorter for a number of Aveeks, he enters in his 
diary: "I then returned home, and in a few days 
our Quarterly-meeting Conference was held, which 
was about the last of Aus^ust. At this Conference 
I obtained recommendation to the District Confer- 
ence to preach; at which District Conference I ob- 
tained license, and returned home again. At the 
District Conference I obtained recommendation to 
the Annual Conference for the traveling connection. 
At the Annual Conference, which was held about 
the last of November, 1824, the Rev. James Mc- 
Ferrin and I were appointed to the Jackson Circuit 
in the State of Alabama, the Rev. William Mc- 
Mahon, Presiding Elder. On the 10th day of De- 
cember, 1824, I bade adieu to my friends and set 
out for my circuit." A letter from Bishop Paine is 
just in place. He writes: 

2* (33) 



34 FIRST APPOINTMENT. 

<^The Tennessee Conference held in Columbia, 
I^ovember 25, 1824, was a memorable term with the 
writer. He had finished the iirst year of his 2rresi(l- 
ing eldership on an immense District, had attended 
the General Conference in Baltimore, had just been 
married after seven years hard service as an itinerant 
preacher. Among many others who were admitted 
on trial at this Conference were three men who be- 
came my intimate and life-long friends — G. D. 
Taylor, George W. D. Harris, and A. L. P. Green. 
The last was reported to be a very pious and perse- 
vering young preacher. His appearance was favor- 
able. He was, to be sure, quite youthful, and his 
friends did not claim for him much educational cult- 
ure; but he combined, with a fine, manly, and even 
handsome physique^ a modest, an intelligent, and a 
kind of transparent sincerity and 7iaivete of char- 
acter, which won the confidence of the members. 
At the close of the Conference he was appointed 
to Jackson Circuit as junior preacher. James Mc- 
Ferrin, the honored father and head of all our Mc- 
Ferrin family, was in charge of the circuit. It 
proved to be a year of great spiritual prosperity." 

Certainly this chapter will be fully ex cathedra 
when we bring the neoteros right behind the presbu- 
teros. We quote from the admirable tribute of 
Bishop McTyeire: 

''At the Annual Conference held in the autumn 
of 1824, at Columbia, fourteen applied for admission 
on trial as traveling preachers, who were received. 
Among them was A. L. P. Green, then in his nine- 
teenth year. As junior preacher he was returned 



FIRST APPOINTxMENT. 35 

to his home circuit that year and the next. Among 
the inferences we might draw are, that his devel- 
opment in mind and body was respectable, and even 
vigorous; though he kibored at and near home — 
among kinsfolk and acquaintances — his ministry 
was acceptable and in request; and this means much, 
lie was not a ' novice,' though exceptionably young 
for a preacher. His case does not fall under St. 
Paul's warning against the elevation of 'novices' 
in the ministry, for the margin reads, 'One newly 
come to the faith;' and he was older in the faith 
than many who have received ordination." 

The Rev. James McFerrin, the senior colleague 
of my father, was a man of vigorous intellect and 
beautiful character; devoted in body and spirit to 
the Church — which love he has transmitted to his 
descendants, for he is the father and the grandfather 
of Methodist preachers. Dr. J. B. McFerrin, who 
joined the Conference the year after my father, is 
his honored son; and we might name nearly a half 
score of others, sons, grandsons, and nephews, who 
are standing on the walls to-day. 

James McFerrin was just a year in advance of 
my father, having joined the Conference on trial in 
the autumn of 1823. Here we have two meu, 
neither of them ordained, in charge of a large circuit. 

It sounds a little novel that A. L. P. Green ob- 
tained his license to preach at a District Conference. 
At the proper place I have some revelations to 
make on the subject of District Conferences. The 
Rev. Greenville T. Plenderson says: "In the bounds 
of the Tennessee Conference, in 1824, no District 



36 FIRST APPOINTMENT. 

Conference was held except by the Eev. William 
McMahon." 

I cannot close this paper without a hasty refer- 
ence to the Rev. William McMahon. We quote 
from the official record: 

"Mr. McMahon was a preacher of wonderful flu- 
ency and power. For fifty years he held up the 
cross and preached the doctrines of Christianity in 
Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi, 
leaving holy foot-prints, and winning votaries to 
Christ. No one ever had the reputation that he 
had in Korth Alabama and Mississippi." 

The Conference class of admissions in 1824 was 
composed of the following: Eichard H. Hudson, 
John Summers, A. L. P. Green, Thomas M. King, 
Isaac V. Enochs, Gilbert D. Taylor, George W. D. 
Harris, Samuel R. Davidson, Thomas P. Davidson, 
Henry J. Brown, Amaziah Jones, Jeremiah Jack- 
son, William V. Douglas, Michael Berry. A close 
intimacy existed between George W. D. Harris and 
A. L. P. Green, which continued without check or 
hinderance till the death of the former. I know 
not that any of this class remain except Michael 
Berry, father of the Pev. U. N. M. Berry, of the 
Tennessee Conference, and Thomas P. Davidson, 
who is now furnishing, through the columns of the 
Western Methodist, an entertaining autobiography. 

Bishops McKendree and Soule were present at 
this Conference. 

There never breathed a man who, when his life 
Was closing, might not of that life relate 
Toils long and hard. 



B ^SSpbm MB 



11. 
Jackson Cikcuit. 

HE first appointment of a Methodist itin- 
erant, however insignificant it may be to 
others, is always full of charming history 
to him. He remembers vividly the roads 
and by-paths, the streams and hills; he remembers 
the name and location of each church, and the favor- 
ite places where he delighted to rest and study. If 
a good and true man, his name is blessed in many a 
cottage-home when he is far away. He may return 
in after years, when a generation has taken its flight 
— the churches have gone to decay, and the old 
registers are lost; but fresh in his memory still is 
the circuit, like an illuminated city. Fifty years 
have elapsed: the now aged man of God knows 
more than any one; he has carried it all; he can 
tell you wonderful things that happened w^hen your 
father Avas a boy. 

I wish the space and the interest would allow^ the 
insertion, verbatim, of the whole Journal. 

The young itinerant, upon the threshold of the 
first year's work, enters in his diary: 

'•'•Dec, 11, 1824. I reached my first appointment 
at Robert Clark's; the weather was cold and very 

(37) 



38 JACKSON CIRCUIT. 

disagreeable, so that tliere was but a small attend- 
ance; but I tried to preach. 

''Dec. 24, 1824. I swam my horse twice across a 
creek, and preached to a small congregation. The 
next day — Christmas — I rode ten miles, preached 
to a full house and held class-meeting; we had a 
good time. 

''Dec, 31, 1824. I rode through very inclement 
weather; swam a creek, but did not meet any con- 
gregation. 

"Jan. 2, 1825. I preached to a. large congregation 
in the neighborhood of Bellefonte; here we had a 
good meeting indeed, and four days' rest." 

This was his Urst round on the circuit. He notes 
that Brother James McFerrin joined him Decem- 
ber 23, and continued through the round. From 
December 11 to January 6 he attended twenty-one 
appointments. A swollen stream was not in the 
way of an itinerant of 1824. He states that very 
sore eyes prevented liis attending one appointment. 
To preach and hold class-meeting, besides riding- 
ten miles, was not too much work for Christmas- 
day. He honors the 8th of January by calling it 
the "day of days." We follow copy: 

*' I rode six miles. The preaching was at a private 
house. When I came in sight I was astonished at 
the number of people assembled ; only the females 
could find room in the house. On this day the 
blessed work began. After the sermon I called for 
mourners, and many came up — several from the out- 
side. We spent some time in singing and prayer, 
and then held class-meeting, after which I extended 



JACKSON CIRCUIT. 89 

an invitation for members, and joined five into 
Society." 

If I were to make a rough guess, this service 
must have erabraced all of three hours. A very 
ample text (no doubt) is followed by a very full 
sermon; then an exhortation, or appeal for peni- 
tents; then "some time" in singing and prayer; 
then the dear old class-meetino:; then an invitation 
for members, and their reception. Well, could the 
short-service laymen of the present day have stood 
it? These people were hungry, because their feast- 
days were so far apart — two weeks, and sometimes 
four. lie continues: 

'•''Jan. 10, 1825. I rode ten miles, and preached to 
a moderate congregation. Here Methodism received 
considerable opposition from the Schismatics. 

'•'•Jan. 11, 1825. I rode over a mountain. It 
rained hard all day. Brother Gilliland, who was 
riding around the circuit with me, exhorted. 

^'Feb. 3, 1825. I preached at Pleasant Grove. 
There was a grog-shop about one hundred and 
fifty yards from the church. On the day before I 
preached a man and a boy were alone in this house 
at midnight. The boy was awakened by the screams 
of the man, who was on fire; he threw a bucket of 
water on him, but did not extinguish the flames. 
The boy then went to the well to get more water; 
but when he returned the man's clothes were burnt 
ofl*, and he died about daylight, without a hope of 
heaven. 

"•Feb. 5, 1825. The Rev. William Anderson 
preached for me, and we had a good time. 



.40 JACKSON CIRCUIT. 

^'Feh. 7, 1825. I rode seven miles, and preached 
to a small congregation ; but we had a warm meet- 
ing. We held class-meeting for the first time in 
this place. The 'people were considerably alarmed at 
the thought of undergoing an examination. 

"-Feb. 14, 1825. I rode eight miles, and preached 
to a small congregation; fifty -two persons were 
present, and fifty were females. 

'^Feb. 17, 1825. I started to our first quarterly- 
meeting, about sixty miles distant. 

'''March 6, 1825. Brother Bewley preached, and I 
preached after him. 

''March 20, 1825. I preached at Smith's, and there 
were persons present who had walked five miles. 

"March 24, 1825. I preached at Bellefonte, which 
completed my fourth round. I went home, and had 
four days' rest. In these four rounds, or sixteen 
weeks, including the extra work, I preached about 
ninety-five times." 

They grow in grace most rapidly 
Who labor most for God, 




12. 

Jackson Ciecuit. 

|UR landlady shows a spirit of accommoda- 
tion by studying the tastes of her guests. 
How could she otherwise ^'season justice 
with mercy?" Our landlady is a judge 
of human nature, is very discerning, and, withal, is a 
physiognomist and a historian. She reasons a priori. 
We know, and she knows, that animals in early life, 
poorly and scantily fed, when furnished with better 
fare take on appetites of exquisite sensitiveness, 
from whom no accomplishment of the cuisine can 
draw the exclamation, " This is good ! " Because of 
these our landlady is sad; they would keep house, 
but are incompetent. Furthermore, our landlady is 
aware that as there are standard literary works, so 
there are standard dishes for breakfast. Shall we 
rebut and destroy that which has been established 
by the custom of the ages? Our fathers all ate 
beefsteak and hash for breakfast, and so do we; 
these are culinary standards. In all well-regulated 
small families what can or should be the final des- 
tiny of a large turkey-gobbler, the third day after 
its death, but hash? I am proud of hash, because 
it nourishes so many of my friends. It is not insan- 

(41) 



42 JACKSON CIRCUIT. 

ity, but the law of association, that has led me into 
this seeming digression. A diary reminds me of 
hash in that it may be constructed variously and be 
destitute of a frame-work. The reader has a deli- 
cate stomach, and refuses honey, which is not script- 
ural, for Solomon says, "My son, eat thou honey, 
because it is good." Every entry in my father's 
diary is good. I cannot force an appreciation, but 
I can move bravely on. Yesterday I read the last 
paper to a fishing associate of my father — Mr. M. 
A. McClaugherty. He said: "Your lather did not 
belong exclusively to the Church; write something 
that will be of interest to those who are not Church- 
people." While we do not recognize the right of 
any one to be out of the Church, yet we would 
rather please than offend even this class. 

Our young itinerant has another "day of days." 

'''■April 10, 1825. I preached to a small congrega- 
tion, but a happy one. I called for mourners, and 
they nearly all came up. 

''^ April 15, 1825. I rode six miles, and preached 
to a good congregation. Brother John McFerrin 
exhorted and called up the mourners; we had a 
good time." 

This was the Rev. John B. McFerrin, D.D., who 
was received on trial into the Tennessee Conference 
in the autumn of this year, 1825. 

^'Ajyril 18, 1825. I started to our second quar- 
terly-meeting, at Brother Jas. Smith's. I preached 
on the way. Brothers McMahon, McClure, Smith, 
and King met on their way to the meeting. On 
the second day (Thursday) I met Brother Clark, 



JACKSON CIRCUIT. 43 

and staid all night with him. On Saturday we 
went on to the meeting, whicli was held April 21. 
Brother McClure preached at eleven, Brother Mc- 
Mahon at twelve, and Brother Sullivan at night. 
On Sunday Brother McClure preached at eleven, 
Brother McMahon at twelve, and Brother King at 
night, and we had, indeed, a glorious time; ahout 
sixteen professed religion."^"' 

It seems that much stress was laid on the preach- 
ing of the word. Here, at a quarterly-meeting, six 
sermons were delivered in two days, and no school- 
hoy declamations of ten or fifteen minutes, at that; 
they were full-grown, robust, healthy sermons. 

''May 1, 1825. Brother James McFerrin and I 
attended a two -days' meeting. We had a good 
time, considering the opposition to Methodism at 
this point. 

"About this time I preached at Breeks's Meeting- 
house, and remained till the camp-meeting. Here 
we had a glorious time. The meeting lasted five 
days, after which I rode to Winchester, Tenn., and 
staid all night." He continues: '^ My health is fee- 
ble; but, notwithstanding, I rode eight miles, and 
preached, and received ^lyq into the Church. 

''May i:^ 1825. We commenced a two-days' meet- 
ing at Father Clayton's. Here the Schismatics had 
been preaching a great deal, and the minds of the 
people were on a stand. I thought it right to show 
what the Schismatics were. Accordingly I preached 
at twelve o'clock on the word 'Watch.' Before I 
finished the Schismatics were all mad. One got up 
from his seat and walked toward me with a stick. 



44 JACKSON CIRCUIT. 

and I thought he was going to throw it at me. 
This day's preaching drew the line between the 
Schismatics and the Methodists. From this time, 
during the year, I was on the circuit only at times, 
being employed mostly at camp-meetings." 

Dr. McFerrin, in his "Methodism in Tennessee," 
says: ''During this period (about 1818) the Arian 
heresy found advocates in Tennessee, and a sect 
sprang up, called the 'New Lights,' or 'Schismat- 
ics.' They were headed by some prominent Pres- 
byterian ministers, the most distinguished of whom 
was Barton W. Stone, a man of considerable learn- 
ing and decided popularity. They called themselves 
' Christians,' and led away hundreds who were influ- 
enced by their heretical teachings." 

"July 14, 1825. Our camp-meeting came on at 
Bellefonte, and here we had the greatest time that I 
ever witnessed. The meeting convened on Thurs- 
day and broke up on Tuesday. I think in that 
length of time I slept about ten hours in all. Every 
morning I went around and took the number that 
had professed at each tent in twenty-four hours. 
There were, during the meeting, one hundred and 
three conversions that we heard from, and many 
more not reported; seventy-nine joined the Church. 

" From this camp-meeting I went to another near 
Owensboro, Tenn., where we had a good time. I 
then returned to my circuit, and preached until the 
nezt quarterly-meeting, which was September 15. 
Here we had a good time indeed; it continued from 
Thursday till Monday. Seventy-one professed re- 
ligion, and forty-nine joined the Church. 



JACKSOX CIRCUIT. 45 

"The next week I attended a camp-meeting in 
East Tennessee, near Washington. This was a good 
meeting. 

"IText I went to a camp-meeting at Winchester, 
and from that to the District Conference; then 
returned home, and attended a camp -meeting in 
Madison county, near Brownsboro. I then tarried 
at home for two or three days, and returned to my 
circuit, attended three protracted -meetings, and 
then took leave of my work, and started for the 
Annual Conference, which was held in Shelby ville, 
Tenn., commencing November 10, 1825, and contin- 
uing in session ten days. I was again returned to 
Jackson Circuit. 

"In the Conference-year of 1824 and 1825 I rode 
something like fifteen hundred miles, preached over 
two hundred times, and received two hundred into 
the Church." 

A splendid summary for the first year! I find, in 
a strange chirography — perhaps by the Rev. James 
McFerrin — these words: "May the Lord bless your 
labors while you live in the world, and help you to 
be humble!" 

Bishops Roberts and Soule were present at the 
Conference in Shelbyville. 

I saw one man, armed simply with God's word, 

Enter the souls of many fellow-men, 
And pierce them sharply as a two-edged sword. 




13. 

Adventures and Other Matters. 

TOURIST may write a book, provided 
he has been turned over, blown up, sunk, 
frozen, starved, robbed, slept on the floor, 
crowded, lost his money, and caught the 
fever. I took up my pen to write about the "Cen- 
tennial;'' I was discouraged: I had only spent my 
money and been crowded. 

I notice in the magazines illustrated accounts of 
travels; the pictures add much interest — e. g., men, 
like flies, climbing up perpendicular clifls, riding on 
avalanches, leaping on sticks over great chasms that 
w^ould pale a chamois. Sober, unimaginative trav- 
elers, following on behind, fail to find these places 
of perilous interest. 

A soldier who has fought no battles is without the 
glamour of a hero. A soldier must be shot at, or be 
captured, or have a scar somewhere in front. If I 
wished to be a colonel, I would put on two over- 
coats, a pair of cavalry boots, a pair of thick leg- 
gins, Avrap a comfort around my head, and get a 
blind man with a fowling-piece to stand oflt* about 
two hundred yards and shoot at me with bird-shot. 
A Methodist preacher who never rode a circuit 
(46) 



ADVENTURES AND OTHER MATTERS. 47 

is without history. He may be a great man, and 
a good preacher in Jerusalem, but he came up 
without fighting Edom and Moab. 

The history of a Methodist itinerant could not 
be entertained without his engagements, his great 
meetings, and his adventures on horseback in the 
wood and the stream. 

The diary of the second year begins: "George 
W. Morris and I were appointed to the Jackson 
Circuit, and on I^ovember 23, 1825, we struck the 
circuit at Brother McFarlin's. Brother Morris 
preached, and we held class-meeting." 

'^Dec. 10, 1825. I had the most disagreeable ride 
that I ever experienced. I had about twelve miles 
to travel over a mountain. About daylight it com- 
menced to snow, and snowed very hard. At ten 
o'clock I started for my appointment, and in about 
two miles reached the foot of the mountain, where 
the snow was much deeper than lower down. It 
was about a mile and a half to the top of the mount- 
ain, and very rocky and steep. On account of the 
ascent, and the snow covering the rocks, my horse 
had a very uncertain footing, and I had to dismount 
and lead him. It being the south side, I was shel- 
tered from the storm in a good degree; but in climb- 
ing I became very warm, and the snow giving way 
under my feet made it very laborious. B}^ the time 
I reached the top of the mountain I was wet with 
perspiration, and it seemed that I had reached 
another world, for the wind blew very hard and 
cold from the north, and the clouds, from which 
the snow was falling, apparently lay on the ground. 



48 ADVENTURES AND OTHER MATTERS. 

It was SO dark that I could scarcely find my way. 
It not only snowed, but sleeted, so that the few low, 
scrubby trees were loaded with ice. The wind blew 
the snow in my face, and my clothes' hung with 
icicles. I saw no w^ay of relief. The snow clogged 
my horse's feet, and he traveled with difficulty. 
About one o'clock I reached my appointment, and 
met three or four persons, and preached to them a 
short sermon, and we had a tolerable good time. 

"On this day I had another appointment fifteen 
miles distant, but failed to reach it in time — arrived 
at the place at dark. I ate something, and started 
for a night appointment five miles distant. It was 
bitter cold, but when I reached the place, to my 
great surprise, I found a house full of people. I 
preached to them one hour and a half, prayed three 
times, sang about six hymns, joined them into So- 
ciety, and rode five miles the same night after ten 
o'clock." 

The reader is ready to join with the young 
preacher in calling this " a day of days." Combin- 
ing the mental effort, the physical labor and expos- 
ure, few men ever accomplished so much in thirteen 
hours. The result of this day's hardship he carried 
to his grave; for upon that bitter night he was frost- 
bitten, from the effects of which, combined with 
tetter, he died. N^ow we are left musing: All this 
exposure — was it necessary? That house full of 
people assembled that cold night must have a shep- 
herd. How could they hear without a preacher? 
Can the angels tell the beautiful destinies, more 
charming than the "beautiful snow," that have 



ADVENTURES AND OTHER MATTERS. 49 

evolved from that day's work? Truly, the Meth- 
odism of fifty years ago was in league with the 
hurtling storm, and in favor with the rolling flood, 
for it "stopped and staid" not for either. I am 
glad that in the absence of immaculate shirt-bosoms, 
and still more elegant discourses, it can boast of its 
battered veterans, who carried the word to those 
who sat in the shadow of the mountains, "hunger- 
ing and thirsting after righteousness." He writes: 

"Dec. 11, 1825. I rode six miles, and crossed a 
high mountain. I was forced, because of the slip- 
pery rocks, to walk up the mountain. I at length 
reached my appointment, and preached to a small 
congregation. The same night I had an appoint- 
ment about three miles distant; here I met a large 
crowd, considering the cold. The church being- 
open and the people uncomfortable, we had a dull 
time. 

''Dec. 21, 1825. I rode forty miles, and reached 
m}" mother's, in Honey-comb Yalley. Here I 
preached to a large congregation on Christmas-day. 

''Jan. 19, 1826. We had trying times indeed. 
[Joshua Clark was with him.} We had eight miles 
to ride, and a mountain to cross, and the snow was 
falling heavily all the time. We had to walk up and 
down the mountain, and were thoroughly wet by the 
snow, which was eight inches deep. At twelve 
o'clock we reached our appointment at Mt. Zion, 
and found nine persons. I preached a short sermon. 
The good Lord was present, and I received eight 
members, and staid all night at Father Clark's. 
This was a day of suffering with me, and brought 



60 ADVENTURES AND OTHER MATTERS. 

to my mind tlic pleasures of home and the eternal 
rest that lies beyond this vale of tears, which ever 
bears me up under sore trials. 

''Feb. 10, 1826. I rested at Brother Koberts's, 
and was employed principally in reading 'Wesley's 
Philosophy.' 

''Feb. 23, 1826. I rode six miles to my appoint- 
ment at William Barclay's. The people turned out 
pretty generally; the house was crowded, and out- 
side there were about fifty, I preached one hour 
and a half, and the people wept aloud; I called for 
mourners, and a number fell upon their knees in 
the house, and as many outside. This was a pre- 
cious time. 

'''Feb. 25, 1826. I rode to my appointment and 
preached; but few^ w^ere out, for the waters were up, 
and the people did not expect me." 

My father's senior colleague this year — George 
W. Morris — has been represented as ratber an ec- 
centric character, but, withal, a man of severe mor- 
als and rigid piety. He joined the Tennessee Con- 
ference on trial in 1819. In 1837 he was transferred 
to tbe Arkansas Conference, in which he continued 
to labor till 1842, when he located. 

They are sowing the seed of word and deed 
Which the cold know not nor the careless heed — 
Of the gentle word, and the kindly deed, 
That hath blest the world in its sorest need; 
Sweet will the harvest be. 




14. 

Labors and Sickness. 

HERE were giants in the earth in those 
days." I am not surprised, for there are 
giants in the earth in these clays. We 
read in the Church-histories of those " sons 
of thunder" who climbed the mountains and swam 
the rivers — men of strong faith and iron constitu- 
tions. The hist adjective is not an exaggeration. 
Iron, when exposed to the weather, will not outlast 
a man of ordinary strength; neither will a man of 
great physical vigor, overtaxed in mind and body, 
outlast iron. An iron constitution, like an iron 
bridge, sometimes takes us by surprise with a crash. 
Delicate people, who have no acute distempers, as 
a general rule, live the longest. Why? Because 
they do not presume on their strength, and pay 
some regard to the laws of health. I remember all 
of twenty-five years ago, Jones came staggering 
into church. I thought, solemnly, "The place that 
knows Jones will soon know him no more;" but 
Jones is still with us, comes to church, has but one 
eye, has no teeth except those furnished by the den- 
tist; Jones looks at you straight and steady with 
that one eye, and says, "I am tolerable." 

'(51) 



52 LABORS AND SICKNESS. 

My cousin Zeiiobia, not for pleasure, but health, 
has been boarding at the springs every summer for 
twenty years and more. She is still with us, and 
can endure more fatigue than her younger and more 
robust sisters. 

Our young preacher had a fine 'physique — perfect 
health, and no hereditary disease; and yet exposure, 
excessive labor, and the want of rest began to prey 
upon his iron constitution. Hear what he says: 

'■'Feh. 28, 1826. I awoke in the morning very sick, 
was apprehensive that I had taken cold. I took a 
sweat, but without any apparent good effect. This 
day I suffered considerably in body, but my mind 
was composed; the next day I took some medicine, 
which seemed to be of service at first, but owing to 
the damp air I took fresh cold. 

''March 3, 1826. I found myself growing worse; 
a physician was called in, and from this day I began 
to mend. I took another sweat, which had a good 
effect. 

''March 5, 1826. I was able to ride a mile or 
two. 

"March 6, 1826. I rode six miles, and staid all 
night in the neighborhood of Bellefonte, at Brother 
James Gilliland's. 

"March 7, 1826. This day I spent mostly riding 
about in the neighborhood, as the people said it 
would be of advantage to me to be thus employed. 

"March 9, 1826. I visited a gentleman who was 
afflicted pretty much in the same way that I was. 
He was a great sinner, and on this day was taken 
with a terrible delirium, so that it required four 



LABORS AND SICKNESS. 53 

men to bold him in bed. In a few bonrs the delir- 
ium was past, and in a few days be was well." 

Tbis is tbe first, and I believe tbe last, allusion in 
bis Journal to pastoral visiting — in tbe present day 
tbe greatest labor of a Metbodist preacber. Under 
the old regime preacbing was first, and visiting 
second. Now, wbetber for tbe better or tbe worse 
I cannot say, visiting is first. Tbe old preacbers of 
to-day take very slowly to visiting. Fifty years 
ago tbe province of a preacber was to preacb, and 
be gave bimself unreservedly to tbe expounding of 
tbe word; and bow could it be otherwise, wben, as 
in. tbe present case, more tban twenty-one appoint- 
ments bad to be filled in a montb? He continues: 

'''March 14, 1826. I rode five miles, and preached 
for tbe first time after my sickness, on tbe words, 
'In tbe Lord put I my trust.' Before I finished, tbe 
people shouted so that I bad to desist. We had a 
good meeting. Thank tbe Lord for experiencing 
tbe truth of tbe scripture, 'They that wait on tbe 
Lord shall renew their strength!' 

''April 3, 1826. I rode five miles, and met a good 
congregation at Captain McMahon's. I was very 
much depressed by a sense of weight in my chest. 

"April 4, 1826. I rode to my appointment at Mt. 
Pleasant. Not being able to preach, a brother held 
meeting for me. 

"Apinl 5, 1826. I rode five miles to my appoint- 
ment at Shilob. I engaged a brother to hold tbe 
meeting; I had a high fever, and at night suffered 
very much. 

"April 6, 1826. With much difliculty I made out 



54 LABORS AND SICKNESS. 

to reach my appointment, but had to dismiss the 
congregation. I had eaten nothing of any conse- 
quence for two days. In the afternoon my fever 
abated, and I rode fifteen miles to an appointment 
in the neidiborhood of Bellefonte. Brother Mcln- 
tire preached for me, and we had a good and glo- 
rious time. 

''April 7, 1826. I rested, and felt better. 

''April 8, 1826. In company with Brother Mcln- 
tire and Brother Abbets, I rode twenty miles to a 
two-days' meeting. We reached the appointment 
at twelve o'clock. Brother Mclntire preached and 
called for mourners. Four of the dear people found 
God iix the pardon of their sins. The sinners wept, 
and the Christians shouted. We held meeting again; 
Brother Ellis preached, and two more found peace. 

"April 9, 1826. We held love-feast, and to many 
it was a love-feast indeed. Glory to God for his 
ofoodness! At eleven o'clock Brother Mclntire 
preached, followed by another brother — both good 
sermons. After the last sermon, as this was a re- 
tired neighborhood, and had never been blessed with 
a quarterly-meeting, it was thought proper that the 
sacrament of the Lord's Supper should be admin- 
istered. Brother Morris, who was an ordained 
preacher, conducted the service, and we had a good 
time. Sunday night a brother was appointed to 
preach who did not arrive on account of the inclem- 
ent weather. I attempted to preach, but was una- 
ble to stand, and Brother Mclntire took my place, 
and preached a short sermon. There were five ac- 
cessions and six conversions at this meeting. 



LABORS AND SICKNESS. 55 

'^ April 10, 1826. I rode tea miles, to my mother's, 
with the intention of staying until I regained my 
strength. I remained until the 16th, and then, as 
my strength had somewhat returned, I rode twenty 
miles, and attended a quarterly-meeting of Brother 
AIcMahon's, near Huntsville. On Saturday night 
I endeavored to preach, and Brother McMahon ex- 
horted. Sunday mornine^ at ten o'clock the Lord's 
Supper was administered. At eleven o'clock, on 
account of Brother McMahon's illness, I had to 
preach. 

^' April 17, 1826. I rode home, and continued until 
the 19th; I then set out to attend our second quar- 
terly-meeting, in the eastern part of Jackson county, 
near the Tennessee line. This meeting was con- 
verted into a camp-meeting, which continued from 
Thursday till Monday, during which time thirteen 
professed religion, and ten joined Society. This 
was an obscure neighborhood, and the congrega- 
tions were small, but the Lord was in and about his 
people. 

"April 26, 1826. Brother McMahon and I started 
out for the Cherokee I^ation. With Brother l^eely 
I staid all night at William J^eely's, and there we 
remained till Friday afternoon (the 29th). We then 
rode to the camp-ground, about three miles from 
town. This meeting continued till the 9th of May. 
There were about sixteen conversions, and the 
Christians enjoyed themselves very much. Glory 
to God for his goodness! 

''May 9, 1826. Brother Morris and I left the camp- 
gronnd, with the expectation of meeting next day. 



56 LABORS AND SICKNESS. 

The next inorniDg I rode to the place appointed, 
and remained until twelve o'clock, but heard noth- 
ing of Brother Morris. I thought it advisable for 
me to start, as my appointments commenced the 
day after, and I had a mountainous wilderness of 
thirty-five miles to pass through before reaching the 
settlements. This was a memorable day to me, for 
I was very sick all day; and being all alone, I had 
opportunity for meditation. I had some happy mo- 
ments in thinking of the joys of heaven. At eight 
P.M. I reached the foot of the mountain, and stopped 
with a Mr. Brown. It was to me a disagreeable 
night, for there were six or seven dark-looking men 
there, who staid all night, whose principal em- 
ployment was to drink whisky and argue on Script- 
ure. I was called on occasionally to decide disputed 
points. 

'''May 19, 1826. I preached to a small congrega- 
tion, but it Avas with great difiiculty that I could 
speak at all, for I was very unwell indeed. 

"J/a]/ 20, 1826. I rode seven miles, and preached 
to a small congregation. I could scarcely stand, 
but blessed be God that in my affliction the Lord 
was with me! 

"May 21, 1826. I rode three miles, and met a 
large congregation. Here I got Jesse Ellis to 
preach for me, and we had a good time in preach- 
ing and class-meeting. I met another large con- 
gregation, and could get no one to preach. I com- 
menced with the intention of praying and exhort- 
ing a little; but I concluded to try and preach, And 
the Lord blessed me with strength enough to de- 



LABORS AND SICKNESS. 57 

liver a short sermon. I concluded to go home and 
stay till I died or regained my strength." 

The common ingredients of health and long life are 
Great temperance, open air, 
Easy labor, little care. 



3* 



15. 

Meetings and Incidents. 




E presume, and assume, that the reader is, 
or should be, very much interested in the 
Journal. So we will not trespass on time 
or space with an introduction. The good 
old book is open : 

'^June 28, 1826. I left home and started for my 
circuit. I met Brother Conn, who was to travel the 
circuit with me for these reasons: Brother [F. A.] 
Owen, who was appointed to the Cherokee Mission, 
took sick and went home; Brother Morris had to go 
and fill his place, and Brother Conn was removed 
from the Paint Rock to the Jackson Circuit." 

The Rev. William W. Conn died only a few years 
since, in extreme old age. He was admitted on trial 
into the Tennessee Conference in 1822, and located 
in 1828. He was a good man, and very much be- 
loved. The appointment of Mr. Conn as the col- 
league of my father explains the failure of Mr. 
Morris to meet his euo^ao^cment, for he was then 
on his way to the Cherokee Mission. We return 
to the Journal : 

''July 13, 1826. Our 'fourth quarterly-meeting' 
commenced at Father Clark's, and continued till tlio 
(58) 



MEETINGS AND INCIDENTS. 59 

eighteenth; it was converted into a camp-meeting; 
we had great and good times; there were sixty-two 
conversions, and twenty-nine joined Society. 

''Aug. 2, 1826. Brother Stephen Carter, Mary (his 
daughter), and I started for a camp-meeting in Lime- 
stone county. We rode this day ahout forty-five 
miles, and came very near having to stay out in the 
swamps of Flint River. We had to travel till nine 
o'clock at night before reaching a place to stay. 

"•Ang. 4. We reached the camp-meeting, which 
held four days, and we had tolerable good times. 
Thirty professed religion, and twenty-nine joined 
Society. 

"■Aug. 15.1 rode ten miles, and preached at Sharon 
Meeting-house. We had a glorious meeting. Brother 
A. Harris Avas with me, who had embraced religion 
a few weeks before, and it appeared that wherever 
he went the fire burned; just a word about the good- 
ness of the Lord would set him to shouting. Thank 
God for a shouting religion! 

''Aug. 16. Brother Harris and I rode five miles to 
my appointment at Brother McFarlin's. Here the 
meetino; exceeded anv thino; that I had ever seen 
before. My own feelings became so kindled while 
I was preaching that I had to desist; and it is said 
that every one shouted except some children and 
one young man, and there was a large congrega- 
tion. 

"Aug. 20. My horse being sick, I had to leave him 
and borrow one, which was extremely disagreeable 
to me. On my journey I suflered myself to reason 
v.nth the devil, which was to my advantage. The 



60 MEETINGS AND INCIDENTS. 

first thing he represented to me was the difficulty 
of traveling and preaching — the many days of ill- 
health that I had experienced; besides, my horse 
was both sick and lame, and my cloak had been 
stolen. JlsTow, if the Lord had appointed me to 
travel and preach, why were so many difficulties in 
my way? But when I began to think of the many 
times that the Lord had blessed me and my preach- 
ing, and the souls that he had given me for my hire, 
I was enabled to sa}', ' Get thee behind me, Satan ! ' 
and, in the language of the psalmist, ' Lord, in thee 
do I put my trust ! ' On the Sunday following Brother 
Maclin Bewley drew up a subscription-paper to buy 
me a horse. He made up twenty dollars and upward 
in one day, which in a few days had reached seventy 
dollars. 

"■Sep. 2, 1826. Brother Bewley and I rode to a 
camp-meeting in Blue Spring Cove. This was a 
Presbyterian meeting. We staid there until Sep- 
tember 5. 

"Sep. 6. I went to my mother's, in Honey-comb 
Valley. Here we had a large congregation and 
good times. Brother Bewley preached. From this 
we went to Brother King's camp-meeting, on Paint 
Pock Circuit, and staid until the eleventh; I then 
returned to my own work. 

"Sep. 14. I attended my appointment at Pleasant 
Grove. On the way I was presented with a horse 
by Brother Bewley; this horse he had got up for 
me by subscription, which was worth at least one 
hundred dollars; besides which he put into my 
hands one hundred dollars, to be disposed of as I 



MEETINGS AND INCIDENTS. 61 

pleased. I was very thankful indeed — thankful for 
friends." 

We may enter this as a " red-letter " day — a horse 
and all of one hundred dollars presented to a young 
circuit-preacher! Really, if many an old conscien- 
tious brother in the Conference had been consulted 
he would have entered a protest — '' Too much for 
the humility of a young brother!" Friend Bewley 
was a Greatheart. In my recollection the "young 
brother," Avhen much older, served many years for 
less, and yet he felt in debt to the Church. 

We close this paper with an incident. I remem- 
ber the sermons of the old preachers abounded in 
such experiences: 

'^Sep. 17, 1826. I attended the funeral of a lady 
who died under peculiar circumstances. Just eight 
weeks before her death her husband attended my 
appointment. He was convicted of sin, and joined 
our Church. He returned home the same evening, 
and related to his wife all the circumstances of his 
conversion, at which she became so enraged that 
she stamped and swore most bitterly, and in her 
rage was taken with a strange kind of fever. She 
went immediately to bed, and never arose. She 
was sick only a few days. A Methodist exhorter, 
who lived in the neighborhood, came to the house 
to pray for her. He made his request known by 
telling her that he would pray, if she had no objec- 
tion, at which she turned upon him her dying eyes, 
filled with terror, and said, 'If I had strength I 
would get up and kill you.' She cursed and swore, 
and, with bitter curses rolling from her lips, she 



62 MEETINGS AND INCIDENTS. 

closed her eyes and left the world. Let all who 
hear this circumstance be taught not to abuse the 
mercies of God; for there is no doubt in my mind 
but that this woman was suffering some of the 
* pangs of hell' before she left the world." 

Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, 
But God will never. 






16. 
Camp-meetings and So-fokth. 

[HERE are various reasons why the camp- 
meeting conducted on the old plan must 
be erelong a glorified thing of the past. 
This is not a matter of love or preference, 
bat of destiny, to which we all must bow, and '' make 
the most of it." In the Southern States camp-meet- 
ings are, and have been, sustained by the few, as to 
expense. The few are active business men, whose 
time is more fully occupied than in ante-bellum days; 
they have not the slave labor and excess of provis- 
ions. Labor, provisions, and time have all become 
valuable. A meeting conducted on the gratuitous 
plan smacks of good-cheer and Southern hospital- 
ity; but, while it is fun to the multitude, it grinds 
exceeding hard on the generous /ei/;. I am satisfied 
that the Northern hotel plan is the best. There are 
few camp-meetings now, not because the people do 
not like them, but because there is no feasible plan 
for conducting them. We have furnished these ob- 
servations especially for the benefit of a class of 
camp-meeting loafers (a number of whom remain 
to this present) who are very lugubrious at tlie de- 
s^encracv of tlio times caut^od bv the scarcitv of 

(G-) 



64 CAMP-MEETINGS AND SO-FORTH. 

camp-meetings, but really {inter nos) because the 
opportunity is denied them of leaving their fami- 
lies at home on short allowance and gormandizing 
(themselves) at the big meetings. I have heard my 
fiither often, in his good-humored way, refer to these 
religious whang -doodles, who infested alike camp- 
meetings and quarterly-meetings. A pen-portrait of 
one, under the cognomen of Benhadad, is furnished 
in these pages. Let us return to the Journal: 

''Sep. 28, 1826. Our camp-meeting in Hone3^-comb 
Valley commenced on this day, and continued until 
October 2. We had a glorious time, considering 
the place, it being a small community. About thir- 
ty-five embraced religion. 

''Oct. 2, 1826. I started to a camp-meeting at 
Winchester, Tenn. I think there were just fifteen 
in company, several of whom had professed religion 
in Honey-comb. When we were about three miles 
on the way. Brother Harris commenced singing; 
and being very warm in religion, he began to shout, 
after w^hich several others joined in, which contin- 
ued for twelve miles, and about two hours and a 
half. I w^as fearful that a number of young horses 
would take fright; but it appeared that the good 
Lord helped them to sit on their saddles, for they 
let go their bridles, clapped their hands, and made 
motions that made their horses run at full speed; 
but not one of them was hurt. 

"The people living along the way were wn eked, 
and, as we passed, they would crowd to their doors 
and stare at us, as if they thought we were deranged. 
After riding ten miles w^e came to the forks of the 



CAMP-MEETINGS AND SO-FORTH. 65 

road, where the party divided, and a shout went 
both ways. Such expressions of power I have 
never seen before, and there was no scoffing among 
the people. One wagon refused to give the road; 
the driver and those in the wagon seemed not to 
notice us at alL 

''Oct. 5. The Rev. Thomas M. King and I started 
in the direction of the camp-meeting. We rode 
four miles, and attended an appointment of Brother 
King's on the way. On the same day we attended 
an appointment of Brother James McFerrin's, in 
Madison county. He not being able to attend, I 
preached, and Brother King exhorted. 

''Oct. 6. We rode to the camp-meeting known as 
Farris's Camp-ground. It so happened that only 
one preacher was there besides those on the circuit. 
Brother King and I had to bear the greater part of 
the burden. 

"Oct. 12. We rode twelve miles to our District 
Conference, which was held near Huntsville. 

"Oct. 23. I rested in the morning, and rode in the 
afternoon to my next appointment at Father Bran- 
don's, and preached the funeral-sermon of a young 
man by the name of James Gaddis, about twenty 
years old. I never saw so many tears shed in the 
same lens^th of time. 

"Oct. 27. I rode through a heavy rain to my ap- 
pointment at Ebenezer, and preached two sermons 
before I sat down, on 1 Peter iv. 6, and 1 Peter iii. 
18, 19, 20. These sermons I preached by request 
of the TJniversalists; and I heard that I gave some 
satisfaction on the subject. 



66 CAMP-MEETINGS AND SO-FORTH. 

^'Nov. 4, 1826. I attended an appointment at 
Brother Parks's; and as this was my last round, 
many came a long distance. Among them was an 
old gentleman well known as a persecutor of relig- 
ion, and particularly of young Methodist preach- 
ers. Seeing him in the crowd, and recollecting that 
I had seen him hefore at my appointments four 
days in succession, and as he had come this day 
about ten miles, I was at a loss to know what his 
design was — whether he was serious on the subject 
of religion, or was following me up to hear me 
preach twice on the same subject, in order to laugh 
about it in my absence. During the sermon I found 
he was serious; and I was much pleased to find him 
affected, because a religious person could have no 
peace where he was. We had a good time, and the 
meeting held late. After service the old gentleman 
seemed slow about leaving. After the people were 
all gone he still staid; about sunset he observed 
that he must go, and started as though he were 
going to leave, when he took me by the hand and 
said he wanted a word with me. We stepped aside, 
and, with tears in his eyes, he said that he was an 
old sinner, and I must not fail to pray for him — 
that he had a large family, and thought he ought 
to hold family-prayer, and that he did not know 
how to pray, because he had not made it a study, 
and he Avanted me to write a prayer for him. I 
wrote him a prayer, as near as I knew how, and then 
with tears he bade me farewell. I heard that he 
went home, took his seat by the fire, and remained 
sometime silent. At lens^th he asked one of the 



CAMP-MEETINGS AND SO-FORTH. 67 

family to hand him Tom Paine's 'Age of Reason.' 
He took the book, and said, 'I thank God that I 
have the privilege of committing you to the flames,' 
and threw the book into the fire. I understand 
that he is now a serious man, and conducting fam- 
ily-worship." 

We subjoin the form of prayer referred to above: 

"1. Speak of the greatness of God and his good- 
ness — that it is from him we receive every blessing 
— that he is the fountain of all happiness. 

"2. Speak of your unworthiness — that without 
spiritual influence you can do no good thing. 

" 3. Ask forgiveness for past sins, and that you 
may be blessed with every needed grace. 

"4. Ask God to bless the Church and the world, 
and that his word may be received. 

" 5. Pray God to have mercy on sinners — to bring 
them to light, and to comfort the penitent, and to 
give them knowledge of sins forgiven. 

" 6. Pray God to bless the fatherless and widows 
— the sick and all those in distress. 

'' 7. Ask God to be with you in spirit while you 
live in this world, and to bring you down to your 
grave in peace, and save you in heaven. 

" Since I have been meditating on the subject of 
prayer, I am of the opinion that if you will get the 
points in your mind for which, or about which, men 
generally pray, it will be of more service than this 
written form." 

"■Nov. 10, 1826. I. rode six miles, and met a good 
congregation. Most of the people commenced cry- 
ing as soon as I began to }>rcach. During the scr- 



68 CAMP-MEETINGS AND SO-FORTH. 

mon I was overcome with tears, and had to stop, 
and give vent to my feelings. 

''Nov. 11. I rode after night six miles, and preached 
the best I could to a large congregation. Here I 
finished the labor of two years. Blessed be God 
that I can leave the circuit with a conscience void 
of offense toward God and man ! I do know that 
my feeble exertions have been blessed. I believe, 
if I never meet or see these people in this world 
again, I shall meet numbers of them in heaven; for 
which prospect I give glory to Almighty God." 

Between the close of his regular w^ork and the 
Annual Conference he is actively engaged on extra 
duty. Rewrites: 

"Nov. 14, 1826. I rode to my mother's, and preached 
to a large congregation. I remained at Bellefonte 
until the sixteenth." 

This was indeed a year of great labor and trial. 
He does not state the nature of his physical afflic- 
tion. We think it probable that he had the all- 
prevailing disease of the Tennessee Eiver bottoms, 
chills and fever. His pulpit labors were increased 
by a very vehement delivery. Upon this point I 
quote from a letter of the Rev. E. K. Brown, of 
the Tennessee Conference: "You know that your 
father, in his riper years, was very deliberate in his 
delivery; and yet, I remember, he said to me, for 
my comfort, that his greatest grief in his earlier 
ministry was that some of his friends compared 
him to a certain old Baptist preacher, whose deliv- 
ery was like pouring peas on a rawhide." I have 
heard my father refer frequently to the difficulty 



CAMP-MEETINGS AND SO-FORTH. 69 

he had in toning clown his voice and gestures; but 
* there are reasons sometimes for apparently unrea- 
sonable things. Persons who have had no experi- 
ence in public speaking cannot appreciate the fact 
that some temperaments require considerable phys- 
ical effort to warm the circulation and electrify the 
brain, when the brightest thoughts seem to be the 
creations of nervous fervor. This is particularly 
the case with young preachers, who, like young 
dogs, run the best on a warm trail; and even old 
preachers are sometimes prosy when their brains 
are cool. 




17. 
Madison a^^d Limestone Ciecuits. 

|HE Rev. Ambrose F. Driskill was ap- 
pointed by the Tennessee Conference of 
1826 as the senior colleague of A. L. P. 
Green on the Madison Circuit. For some 
reason they did not labor together. 

While Mr. Driskill was not the actual, but onl}" 
the official, associate of my father in his public min- 
istry, it may not be irrelevant to devote a short 
paragraph to the memory of a strong preacher and 
a good man. 

I remember Mr. Driskill as a Presiding Elder. 
He was in charge of the Nashville District when I 
was a child. He impressed me as a man who had 
his views and his ways. My brother and I stood 
around and looked at him. He carried the atmos- 
phere of holiness about him. He was a Methodist 
in usage and doctrine; never ran on any of the 
branches; stuck to the trunk-line. I heard my 
father remark that he remembered Mr. Driskill at 
an early day as the most tastefully-dressed gentle- 
man in the Conference — not foppish, but elegant, in 
the fit and neatness of his apparel. Mr. Driskill 
joined the Tennessee Conference on trial in 1822, 
(70) 



MADTSOX AND LIMESTONE CIRCCTTS. 71 

and died while in charge of the Madison Circuit, 
]^orth Alabama Conference, in 1875. 

The labors of the second year are finished, and 
my father enters in his diary: 

'''Nov. 22, 1826. I started with Brother Davidson 
for the Tennessee Annual Conference, to be held in 
Kashville, Tennessee. On our way we staid all night 
with Brothers Steger, Watkins, McMahon, Rows, 
Johnson, and the Rev. Thomas D. Porter. We 
were on the way live days and a half; ^ve reached 
[N'ashville on Monday. Our Conference opened on 
Tuesda}^ November 28, and held until December 5. 
At ten o'clock on Tuesday night we received our 
appointments. Brother Ambrose F. Driskill and 
I w^ere read out to the Madison Circuit, and on 
Wednesday, December 6, started for our work. We 
met the first appointment December 10. Brother 
Driskill preached. On the same day I understood 
that I had been removed to the Limestone Circuit." 

We can hardly realize, witli the improved trans- 
]3ortation of the present day, that a member of the 
Tennessee Conference in 1826 spent nearly six days 
in traveling from Jackson county, Alabama, to 
Nashville. 

On the morning of November 27, 1826, A. L. P. 
Green saw his future home for the lirst time. We 
should like to know what were his impressions of 
the little city and its people; but no, not a word is 
written — ^not even the name of the family with 
whom he staid. He could not be returned to the 
Jackson Circuit; the two-years' pastorate had closed. 
Perhaps the all-absorbing question, Where shall I be 



72 MADISON AND LIMESTONE CIRCUITS. 

sent? shut out every thing else. He says nothing 
of his ordination to the deaconship by Bishop Soule; 
he does not state why he was changed from the 
Madison to the Limestone Circuit immediately after 
the Conference. The choicest bits he throws, with- 
out any ceremony, to that insatiable gormand. Ob- 
livion. But, after all, if we had it all, would it be 
possible to write a history at all? I think, Not at 
all! The Rev. James McFerrin w^as the senior 
preacher on the Limestone Circuit. He and Mr. 
G-reen had spent a delightful year together on the 
Jackson Circuit. Mr. McFerrin must have his 
youthful associate again. The change was a re- 
newal of a pleasant association, agreeable to both 
parties. There would certainly have been no want 
of affinity between Messrs. Driskill and Green, who 
were warm, devoted friends all their lives. He 
makes the first entry in his diary: 

"Dec. 12, 1826. I rode twelve miles, and attended 
an appointment at jN'ubbin Ridge, which was the 
first appointment of mine on the Limestone Circuit. 
Brother John B. McFerrin preached a very good 
sermon." [Mr. McFerrin was junior preacher on 
the Lawrence Circuit, with the Rev. Alexander 
Sale.] 

'-'Dec. 18, 1826. I attended an appointment at 
Triana. The day was rainy, congregation small, 
and meeting very cold." 

I subjoin a poem, which he dedicated to the peo- 
ple of Triana. It is just a little sally of humor, 
and gave no ofi'ense at the time. Indeed, the present 
Trianians have no part or parcel in it: 



MADISON AND LIMESTONE CIRCUITS. 73 

A POEM FOR THE PEOPLE OF TRIANA. 

As I was on my horse, and bound 

To places strange and new — 
Indeed, it being my first round, 

And scarcely knowing what to do — 

So curious was I for to know 

Where sin did most abound, 
Where there was an excess of woe. 

To find which I went round and round. 

At length I to Triana came, 

Where men and sinners are the same; 

In wickedness of every kind 

They are by practice all combined. 

I cannot say what they do mean; 
In vice they 're fat, in virtue lean; 
And if they do not soon repent, 
They '11 be from God and mercy sent. 

Now, Mac, I would just let you know 
Religion there's in the back row; 
The meeting-house I found quite empty, 
Bat in the streets were people plenty. 

It was near on to twelve, I thought, 
When to the meeting-house I got, 
And I was sorely grieved to find 
No pulpit there, nor seats, nor stand. 

And 0, my brother! that's not all: 
They made the church a Mason's hall; 
And yet still more I hear about it: 
They say they'll make a school-house of it! 

And when you preach there, all will say 
They did not know that was the day ! 
They'll stay away without remorse. 
And flock in crowds to hear old Moss, 



74 MADISON AND LIMESTONE CIRCUITS. 

So, brother, you must scold them well, 
And tell them they are going to hell! 
Tell them, "Indeed Triana town 
Need not on Methodism frown." 

Shall it be told in this our day, 
"Triana would not let you stay?" 
No; Satan's power, and theirs together, 
Cannot our Methodism fetter. 

But we will keep our heads well clear 
Of their strange blood, and we will bear 
Tidings of life and full salvation 
To such as want to get to heaven. 

He adds: "I wrote these lines to send in a letter 
to Brother James McFerrin, for the Trianians are 
very careless about religion." This is a boy's poem 
— perhaps the first onr young preacher ever wrote. 
The reader must allow a broad poetic license. This 
is fun — that is all — at the expense of Triana, where 
many good Christians have lived and do live. 

The Limestone Circuit was a four-weeks' appoint- 
ment. The following, as near as I can gather from 
the diary, were the names of the preaching-places: 
Nubbin Kidge, Jordan's, Beech Grove, Siloam, Mt. 
Sharon, Huley, Cambridge, Poplar Grove, Pettus's, 
Mt. Zion, Maysville, Mother McGehee's, Bethle- 
hem, Ilanley's, Athens, Dogwood Flat, Davidson's, 
Mooresville, Hebron, Hopewell, Triana, Cotton 
Port, Bethel, Malone's, English's, Collier's, Jack- 
son's, Beech Grove, and Hundley's. Here we have 
twenty-nine appointments to be tilled in four weeks, 
by preaching twice on Sunday. 

We turn over the pao^es of the diary, nothing of 



MADISON AND LIMESTONE CIRCUITS. 75 

Special interest occurring until January 30, 1827. 
At this elate he received a letter from a boy-preacher 
on the Lawrence Circuit, which I will take the lib- 
erty to insert: 

"Morgan County, Alabama, Jan. 27, 1827. 

''Rev. Sir: — Once more I embrace an opportunity 
of writing to you a few lines, merely as a compli- 
ment. I went to the office on my last round, and 
received a letter that you wrote. You told me that 
I might write when I had something good, w^hich 
seemed to insinuate that you were indifferent about 
it; but as we are told to 'render good for evil,' I 
determined to write when opportunity offers^that 
is, when I can get pen, ink, and paper plenty. 

"I have been round my circuit, and am pretty 
near round again. I can, indeed and in truth, say 
that this circuit is very much deranged. Our first 
quarterly -meeting is over, and Brother Davidson 
can tell you all about it. 

"I am very well in body, and enjoy some of the 
'life and power of religion;' but how unfaithful 
I have been! Pray for me, that I may be more 
holy. 

"I have read, since I saw you, 'Paley's Philoso- 
phy,' ' Sullen's Arguments,' 'Ballar's Grammar of 
Nature,' 'Natural Philosophy,' the Gospels, the 
three first books of the Pentateuch, besides some 
sermons, some narratives, some newspapers, and 
some other little things. You may say that this is 
but little; but recollect the season has been cold. I 
hope to mend my ways. 

"Tvev. Sir, you will do well, I hope, and succeed 



76 MADISON AND LIMESTONE CIRCUITS. 

wherever you go. I shall close by subscribing my- 
self your unworthy friend, J. B. McFerrin." 

Dr. McFerrin may well be proud of this letter, for 
it shows him an active student. Mr. Green certainly 
prized it very much, as he copied it into his diary. 
Other letters from friends on the Jackson Circuit are 
preserved, but are wanting in general interest; and, 
like a good-hearted, prosy professor dismissing his 
class before bell-tap, we extend a gr^icious release to 
the reader. 

Do you like letter-reading? If you do, 

I have some twenty dozen very pretty ones — 

Gay, sober, rapturous, solemn, very true. 

And very lying, stupid ones, and witty ones. 




18. 
Letters, Sickness, and Camp-meetings. 

N^ old lady in Kentucky said that she liked 
to hear a certain preacher, because there 
was so much in his sermons that was not 
gospel. I was reproved myself by a little 
girl, who said that my sermon w^as not in the Bible. 
For reasons just the reverse, I am going to insert a 
letter, because it has in it so much of the spirit of 
the gospel, and is a word-picture of an old Chris- 
tian-perfection, class-meeting Methodist: 

"Bellefonte, Jail. 19, 1827. 

"Eev. a. L. p. Green — Dear Brother: — I write to 
inform you that I am in pretty good health, for 
which I thank the good Lord. I received your 
friendly letter some little time since, for Avhich I am 
thankful, and I hope you w^ill continue to write. 
My dear brother, I love you, and I hope you will 
have good times. In this part of the country times 
are dull; but I feel myself, let others do as they 
may, I will serve God, and, by his helping hand, 
make my way to heaven. We had a prayer-meet- 
ing in town last night, and the Lord was with us, 
and many appeared to be happy; and as for my own 
feelings, they were better than tongue can express, 

(77) 



78 LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 

for which I thank the good Lord. We have but 
one preacher, and he is a good one — old Father 
Davidson. I have had hard times since I saw you, 
and many things have disturbed my mind; but 
when troubles assail, I can turn to the Lord, who 
blesses my soul. We have three prayer-meetings 
in the week. I am glad that while some people 
turn out badly there are so many who do well. My 
dear brother, I want you to pray for me, that I may 
be enabled to overcome all my difficulties, and be 
instrumental in doing some good in this wicked 
town; and, my brother, if we should never meet in 
this world, I hope we shall meet in a better, for 
which I do pray in secret places. I remain your 
friend and brother, McRairy Harris." 

We select one other, of the same spirit: 

" Franklin County, Tennessee, January, 1827. 
" My Very Dear Brother Green: — With pleasure 
I embrace this opportunity of writing to you. My 
health is good, for which I am thankful to Almighty 
God. In regard to my religion I can say this much, 
that I feel bound for heaven, and I do thank the 
Lord for the desires I have to serve him. Reliction 
in this neighborhood is at a low ebb. May the Lord 
heal all our backslidings! Brother Davidson was 
well last night, for we staid together at Brother 
Alexander's. Brother Brown is o^one, and Brother 
Davidson is well received indeed on the circuit; and 
I am in hopes the Lord will revive this work this 
year. I have a request to make of you, and that 
is, you will pray for me. I assure you that I have 



LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 79 

not forgotten you. When you have not better 
employment write to me. May mercy, goodness, 
and prosperity attend you all the days of your life! 
Fraternally, Joshua Clarke." 

These letters are emphatically in the benediction 
style; there is about them a halo of the long ago. 
Like pressed flowers that drop from an old volume, 
they speak of an unknown love and a gentle hand. 
We have selected them only because they are heart- 
classics. They have the same platitudes that weary 
some original, smart people; and yet, if the angels 
were to go round searching old drawers and trunks 
for specimen letters to show" at the millennium, I 
would confidently hand them these after they had 
refused the letters of Greyson and Lord Chester- 
field. They have the odor of precious ointment. I 
throw many letters aw^ay because I know them not, 
and they know not me. I have letters, old and 
faded, that I love; they have been touched with the 
honey end of Jonathan's rod, and they have grafts 
from Aaron's rod of immortal buds, that will blos- 
som when principalities and powers have hasted 
away. These are the names of my father's friends; 
these are the men w^ho sharpened the lance that 
Achilles threw. 

We return to the diary: 

^'Feh, 11, 1827. I attended an appointment in 
Triana, and met a large congregation. I preached 
a tolerably long sermon, and we had a profitable 
time; for the people Avept much, and among those 
who w^ept I observed a young man who Avas dressed 



80 LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 

like a dandy. When the meeting was over he came 
lip and toki me that he wanted me to pray for him 
every day until my return, when he expected to join 
the Church. 

"i^e6.»25. I encountered a terrific storm. I was 
among the hills of Elk River, and as I was traveling 
with my back on the cloud, was not apprised of its 
approach until nearly overtaken. The lightning- 
began to play, and the thunder burst, peal after 
peal, with such awful power that the hills appeared 
to tremble. I now^ began to think it was time to 
seek for shelter. The roaring of thunder and fall- 
ing of trees so alarmed my horse that it was with 
difficulty I could hold him. I concluded to let him 
go, and kept him reined to the road. I ran him 
about one-half of a mile, and came in sight of a 
house. A man standing in the door saw me com- 
ing, and threw open the gate; but he could scarcely 
hold my frightened horse till I dismounted. I 
thank God I sustained no injury. 

'-Feb. 27. I preached at Brother Hundley's, and 
we had a glorious time, indeed. Seven or eight 
persons came up for prayer, and the strength of 
the Christians was renewed. 

''''March 11. I met a good congregation in Triana. 
The young man who promised to meet me four 
weeks before was present, and joined the Church; 
there was great solemnity. 

'''March 16. I rode twelve miles, and preached at 
Cambridge. Brother James McFerrin was present, 
and preached also. We held class -meeting. At 
night we held meeting at Brother George Malone's. 



LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 81 

A brother from Tennessee preached a very good 
sermon. I followed him in an exhortation, and 
called for penitents. Seven came forward, and four 
found God in the pardon of their sins. 

'^ March 19. I met a good congregation on Poplar 
Creek, and preached on the scripture, ' The wicked 
is driven away in his wickedness.' After the sermon 
fifteen or sixteen penitents came forward. I ap- 
pointed a meeting at night at Brother Yarbrongh's. 
We had a crowded house, and I preached ninety 
minutes. At the close of my discourse there was a 
general weeping and shouting all over the house. 
There was a large man standing in the door, whom 
I saw weeping and paying very close attention. At 
last he fell full-length on the floor, and cried for 
mercy. When I called for mourners between thirty 
and forty came forward. There was not a single 
person in the house who prayed in public. I labored 
with the mourners until exhausted. 

^^March 20. I preached to a few at English's. At 
night w^e held a meeting at Brother Hogan's, near 
Cambridge, and Brother John B. McFerrin preached 
and I exhorted. We called for mourners; ^yq were 
converted. 

''April 8. I attended a meeting at Triana; there 
was a large attendance. There I conducted the first 
class-meeting ever held in that place. 

''April 13. Brothers James McFerrin and Booth 

Malone, and I, went to our quarterly - meeting. 

Brother Malone preached the first sermon, and 

Brother McFerrin exhorted. The sacrament of 

the Lord's Supper was administered on Sunday at 
4* 



■* 



82 LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 

ten o'clock. At eleven o'clock Brother McMahon 
preached, and there were many tears. In the after- 
noon I attempted to preach. We had some mourn- 
ers, and joined two into Society. 

'''June 21. I attended a camp-meeting, where about 
thirty persons embraced religion. 

'''July 5. Brother James McFerrin and I attended 
a camp-meeting at Ford's Chapel, and continued to 
its close. 

''July 10. Brother McMahon and I rode to Mt. 
Air, in Tennessee, where Brother M. solemnized the 
rite of matrimony between a Mr. Coats and a Miss 
Die. The next day we rode to Huntsville, and spent 
the night with Brother Brandon, and on the next 
day attended another wedding. 

"July 13. I attended the camp -meeting at Bell 
Spring. 

"July 19. I preached in Athens, and rode to a 
camp-meeting at Round Island, where about twen- 
ty-five persons embraced religion. 

"July 25. I attempted to preach at Pettus's, but 
had to stop on account of sickness. Brother Malone 
happened in, and preached for me. 

"July 27. I rode to Huntsville, and got Brother 
Craig to fill my appointments for me. I remained 
in Huntsville upward of two weeks, to regain my 
strength. During my stay I preached five times in 
town and twice in the country. [Rest with a wit- 
ness !] 

"Aug. 22. I preached at Pettus's on the passage, 
*God so loved the world,' etc. This was the same 
text that I took here before, but was not able to 



LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 83 

finish; neither was I able to finish it this time, but 
concluded my remarks on the next round. 

^'•Aug. 23. Brother Malone and I rode to a camp- 
meeting, and after the meeting broke Brothers 
James McFerrin and Joshua Boucher, and I, rode 
to an appointment at Brother Hundley's. Brother 
Boucher preached, and we had tolerable feeling 
times. 

'■^Sep. 5. I preached at Colyar's; we had several 
mourners. From there I rode to a camp-meeting 
near Tuscumbia, at which I preached three times. 

'•^Sep. 14. I met a small congregation at Cam- 
bridge, and preached a short sermon. The same 
day I went to see a sick child, and found it dying. 
At half-past eight it left the world. As there was 
no one to watch, I sat up with it. Without any 
sleep I had to ride eight miles, and was very feeble 
when I reached my appointment. Notwithstand- 
ing my weakness, I had to preach, as the local 
brother whom I had engaged failed to attend. In 
the afternoon I rode eight miles, and preached the 
funeral-sermon of a son of Elijah Hogan, which 
service closed near sunset. I then rode eight miles 
to my next appointment, that night, in Athens. 

''Sep, 16. We had a large congregation in Athens. 
Brother Hundley preached, at eleven o'clock, a very 
warm and energetic sermon. At twelve (noon) I 
preached the funeral-sermon of a son of Brother 
Gamble, during which service there were many 
tears, and at the close I joined a number into Society. 

''Sep. 20. Our camp-meeting at Cambridge com- 
menced, and twenty joined the Church. 



84 LETTERS, SICKNESS, AND CAMP-MEETINGS. 

''Sep. 27. I went to a camp-meeting on Madison 
Circuit, where about thirty persons embraced re- 
ligion. 

''Oct. 2. Father Thompson and I rode to my 
mother's, in Jackson county, near Gunter's Land- 
ing. On the next night Brother Hunter, mother, 
and I, had a happy time. 

"Oct. 4. We rode to Bellefonte camp-meeting, at 
which we had good and great times. I preached 
four times. [This camp-ground was on the farm 
owned by the Rev. James McFerrin.] 

"Oct. 18. Our camp -meeting at Kubbin Ridge 
commenced, which was also the occasion of our 
District Conference. Thirty professed, and twenty 
joined the Church. 

'^Nov. 19. I preached to a small congregation at 
Father Moore's; and on this day we finished our 
year's labor, in which I preached two hundred and 
fifty times. Brother McFerrin and I received two 
hundred and thirty-five into the Church, and turned 
out twenty." 

To hallowed duty, 
Here with a loyal and heroic heart, 
Bind we our lives. 




19. 
Seco:n^d Year on the Limestone Circuit. 

SUMPTUOUS dinner, while it has much 
that is alluring to a hungry man, has 
some features, apparent and latent, that 
detract: the excess, the tediousness, the 
hospitality administered with "a vengeance," the 
lassitude and headache that follow. That is a good 
aphorism for a dining, "Remember your head in 
the morning." But, after all, there is some repub- 
licanism even in a wholesale dinner. 'No man, what- 
ever his appetite or capacity, is required to sample 
every dish. It is pardonable, even at the tables of 
the most elite, for the humblest consumer to say, 
'^^N'o, I thank you." How much a restless man 
would enjoy the privilege of standing around be- 
tween the courses! But I intended this as the in- 
troduction to something entirely different, which is: 
If the reader is a non-religionist, and has grown 
weary of the Church-ring of the diary, he or she is 
not forced, by any law of humanity or politeness, 
to partake, only so far, and in kind, as suits his or 
her taste. We begin, as near as we can, where we 
left off: 

''Nov. 21, 1827. Brothers James McFerrin, Bar- 

(85) 



86 SECOND YEAR ON THE LIMESTONE CIRCUIT. 

ton Brown, T. M. King, A. F. Driskill, and S. Gilli- 
land, and I, started to our Annual Conference, in 
Tuscumbia, Alabama. 

''Nov. 22, 1827. We reached Tuscumbia, and the 
Conference convened the next day, and held till 
!N^ovember 30. On account of a petition from the 
Limestone Circuit, I was returned, and Brother 
Joshua Boucher was appointed to travel with me." 

Bishop Soule presided at this Conference. Will- 
iam McMahon was returned to the Iluntsville Dis- 
trict as Presiding Elder. Joshua Boucher, the senior 
colleague of my father, though dead for many years, 
is still fresh in the Methodist memories of North 
Alabama. He is represented as an olf-hand stump- 
preacher of remarkable fluency and power. A few 
years before his death a friend — Dr. T. S. Malone — 
remarking his self-possession in the pulpit, observed, 
"Brother Boucher, I suppose you are never embar- 
rassed in preaching." He replied, "Old Boucher's 
knees always tremble when he ascends the pulpit." 
Dr. McFerrin, his intimate friend, says ("Method- 
ism in Tennessee") : " Joshua Butcher — more prop- 
erly, Boucher — was admitted on trial this year (1813). 
In the morning of life he was gay and full of pleas- 
ure. He w^as a fine musician, and performed on 
the violin to perfection. His society was coveted 
because of his high social qualities. His education 
was very deficient, but his mind sprightly, and his 
capacity for improvement great. He was licensed 
to preach in 1811. In 1845 he closed his labors, 
dying at Athens, Alabama, August 23." 

We have selected from the diary of this year 



SECOND YEAR ON THE LIMESTONE CIRCUIT. 87 

only about two per cent, of the entries. We begin 
again: 

"jDec. 16, 1827. I preached two hours at Nubbin 
Iliclge to a large congregation, and there was con- 
siderable feeling. At four o'clock I preached to the 
blacks, and many of them came forward for prayer. 

''Dec. 25, 1827. (Christmas-day.) I preached at 
Liberty, on Poplar Creek, and that evening went to 
the marriage of a Mr. David and Miss Jane D. Keys. 

"March 24, 1828. I preached at Jordan's. There 
were eight or ten mourners, and quite a stir in the 
congregation. 

"March 26, 1828. I preached to a good congre- 
gation at Hundley's. We had four mourners and 
good times. 

"April 2, 1828. I did not attend my appointment 
at Triana, as I had to meet with the delegates of 
the Conference to transact some important business. 

"April 12, 1828. I preached at Round Island, and 
from this time till August 7th I continued on my 
circuit, doing just the regular work. 

"Aug. 7, 1828. Our camp-meeting at Cambridge 
commenced. We had a good and great time. 
Sixty-three embraced religion, and fifty joined the 
Church. After this meeting I attended a camp- 
meeting held in Morgan county, at which fifty em- 
braced religion, and about the same number joined 
the Church. During these meetings I labored much, 
was exposed a great deal, and in consequence was 
taken sick — at first apparently with cold and a vio- 
lent cough and sore throat, which lasted for sev- 
eral days. At last I sufiered with nausea, and my 



88 SECOND YEAR ON THE LIMESTONE CIRCUIT. 

eyes and skin became aftected. I was golden-yel- 
low all over. This is now the twelfth day, and I 
am still sick with yellow-jaundice, which is not 
very easy to get rid of. 

"I find that religion is our only trust in hours of 
affliction. Yes, what is all the world without God? 
It is a void, a blank, an unlettered scroll." 

They talk of short-lived pleasure — be it so — 
Pain dies as quickly; stern, hard-featured Pain 

Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go. 
The fiercest agonies have shortest reign. 




20. 
The Madison — His Last Cikcuit. 

HE Tennessee Conference convened in 
Murfreesboro, December 4, 1828. Bishop 
Sonle presided. The class of fourteen 
which joined on trial in 1824 is reduced 
one-half. Seven of the ori£:inal class are elected 
and ordained elders : J. B. Summers, G. W. D. 
Harris, Thos. P. Davidson, Richard H. Hudson, 
A. L. P. Green, Samuel R. Davidson, and Michael 
Berry. Thomas Payne was ordained, but was a 
deacon when admitted in 1826. William McMahon 
is continued in the presiding eldership. A. L. P. 
Green, preacher in charge, and Greenville T. Hen- 
derson, junior preacher, are appointed to the Mad- 
ison Circuit, Huntsville District. This was my fa- 
ther's last circuit, and we infer, from the few and 
hastily-written entries in his diary, that it was a 
year of great labor. Indeed, as the years sped on 
and his capacity increased, his labors grew. All 
that he read and all that he did had reference to 
his preacher-work. I remarked once in his hearing 
that I was going to read a certain book. He said, 
"Do you think you can get any thing out of it that 
will be of service to you in preaching?" 

(89) 



90 THE MADISON — HIS LAST CIRCUIT. 

The Rev. Greenville T. Henderson was admitted 
on trial into the Tennessee Conference in 1825. 
Dr. J. B. McFerrin was a member of his class. 
For a number of years Mr. Henderson was in the 
local ranks, and displayed a great deal of energy 
and spirit in his secular undertakings. He is now 
a live member of the Conference — goes up every 
year to receive his "patch," my father's name for 
an old man's appointment. He preaches with great 
power, and is especially formidable when pitted 
against an immersionist. However, he delights 
more in peace than in war — never invites a con- 
troversy or accepts a challenge, except when there 
is an urgent necessity. He contends for the faith — 
not for his own glory — but the good of the cause. 
My father always kept a warm place in his heart 
for G. T. Henderson. 

We copy only a few entries from the time-worn 
diary : 

'''Jan. 1, 1829. I reached my appointment at 
Mount Carmel. Brother Henderson was two weeks 
in advance of me on the circuit. I attended my 
appointments faithfully, but in some places found 
no congregations. The work was in a distracted 
condition, but we went on and did what we could 
until we met, which was at our first quarterly-meet- 
ing, held at Mount Pisgah, February 6, 7. This 
meeting was well attended. It was said that we 
had more people out on Saturday than for years 
before at that place. On Sunday Brother McMahon 
administered the sacrament, and Brother Hender- 
son preached. 



THE MADISON — HIS LAST CIRCUIT. 91 

"i^e6. 15. I preached to a good congregation at 
Ford's Chapel. 

''Feb. 16. I visited Mr. John Hancock, who had 
been sick for two years, and was without religion. 
I remained with him until he was converted.'' 

He furnishes a long account of the sickness and 
triumphant death of John Hancock — also, a sum- 
mary of the year's work. He states: ^'Brother 
Henderson and I had much peace this year. We 
had five camp -meetings in the work. We received 
into the Church about four hundred persons." 

Mr. Henderson, from recollections of this year's 
work, furnishes a story in substance as follows: 
There lived in the bounds of the Madison Circuit 
an eccentric man by the name of Oldham [not his 
real name], who made it his pleasure to try the 
preachers (particularly the young preachers), when 
they first came on the work, with curious scriptural 
questions which neither he nor any one else could 
answer. He was no skeptic, and professed to be- 
lieve in the literal King James's Version. His house 
was a favorite stopping-place of the itinerant. Hear- 
ing that a new preacher was on the circuit, Mr. Old- 
ham prepared his battery of questions. Mr. Green 
w^as informed in advance, and prepared his defense. 
He determined that, instead of answering, he would 
question " a fool according to his folly." On his 
first round he found it convenient to spend the night 
with Oldham. Quite a company of the neighbors 
had gathered in to make welcome the new preacher. 
It was an opportunity that must be improved, 
thought Oldham — it was expected of him. After 



92 THE MADISON — HIS LAST CIRCUIT. 

supper 0. made some moves as though he were 
going to begin the examination. G., anticipating 
him, said, in a slow, measured voice, "Brother Old- 
ham, do you believe the Scriptures?" "Certainly," 
said 0.; "why do you ask such a question?" "Be- 
cause," answered G., " I was not satisfied that you 
believed all the Scriptures — do you believe that 
story about Samson and the foxes?" "I do," an- 
swered O., with some emphasis. "Do you really," 
said G., "believe that Samson caught two hundred 
foxes and turned them tail to tail with fire-brands 
between, and turned them loose among the stand- 
ing corn, vineyards, and olives of the Philistines?" 
"Yes, I believe that," said Oldham. "Just as I ex- 
pected," said G. "The Bible says Samson caught 
three hundred foxes; you believe he caught only 
two hundred ! " 

Oldham never recovered from the shock. He 
was disgraced in the presence of his neighbors by 
a trick-question after the pattern of many that he 
had propounded himself. Whatever his attitude 
may have been toward others, he never approached 
G. with a hard question; and it is said that they 
remained the best and most intimate friends. 

Walk 
Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast; 
There is a hand above will help thee on. 



21. 

J^ASHViLLE Station — Gaerett and Gwin. 




|E read the diary, which can hardly now 
be called a diary: "I attended a session 
of the Tennessee Conference at Hunts- 
ville, Ala., Il^ovember 19, 1829. Bishop 
Roberts presided. We had but little excitement in 
religious matters at this Conference. I was ap- 
pointed with the Rev. James Gwm to the I^ashville 
Station, and in a short time came to my work. I 
arrived in I^ashville some time in November, and 
found the Church in quite a good state. Brother 
Gwin and I, during the year, added two wings to 
the station — one west of the city, and the other east. 
At the western appointment we established a camp- 
meeting, which was much blessed of God. During 
this year we added iive hundred members to the 
Church." 

Dr. McFerrin says ("Methodism in Tennessee," 
vol. iii., p. 85) : " Mr. Green was then a young man 
just entering upon the sixth year of his ministry. 
He had traveled five years in the Iluntsville Dis- 
trict, and was now stationed in a city for the first 
time. 

"Preaching was established, and a church organ- 

(93) 



94 NASHVILLE STATION — GARRETT AND GWIN. 

ized, ill a sniall log-cabin on Front street. Besides 
'^ew Hope,' a small frame house, two and a half 
miles from Nashville, on the Gallatin road, was a 
preaching-place. Another appointment, added to 
the station about this time, was the Kashville Camp- 
ground, some five miles west of the city, and near 
the Charlotte road, in what is known as 'Robert- 
son's Bend.' Another still w^as the African Church, 
situated not far from the Sulphur Spring: here there 
was erected, for the colored people, a commodious 
brick house, that was thronged with anxious hear- 
ers from Sabbath to Sabbath. 

"The reader will see that this w^as work enough 
for two men, yet with the aid of local preachers the 
field was well cultivated, and a rich harvest was 
gathered into the garner of the Lord from among 
both the w^hite and colored people." 

The Rev. Lewis Garrett was Presiding Elder of 
the j^ashville District at this date. He was a thin, 
spare-made, silver-haired old man, and, tradition 
says, very fond of an argument about any thing in 
politics, literature, or religion. He is justly claimed 
by both Kentucky and Tennessee Methodism. Ken- 
tucky has a prior claim, as it was his adopted home 
for many years. As a Kentucky preacher, an elab- 
orate notice has been furnished by Dr. McFerrin 
in the pages of Dr. Redford's " Methodism in 
Kentucky." As a Tennessee preacher, a very ex- 
tended and exhaustive notice covers many pages 
of the first volume of " Methodism in Tennessee." 
As it has been a part of my plan to furnish only 
a running glimpse of my fatlier's ofiicial co-labor- 



NASHVILLE STATION — GARRETT AND GWIN. 95 

ers, a short paragraph must suffice even in this 
case: 

"Mr. Garrett was born April 24, 1772, in Penn- 
s^'lvania, and died at the home of his son, M. Gar- 
rett, Esq., near Vernon, Mississippi, April 28, 1857, 
in the eighty-sixth year of his age. He joined the 
Western Conference in 1794. As a preacher his 
manner was very deliberate, and his sermons at 
times overpowering. In connection with the Rev. 
Jolxji iT. Maffitt he commenced in Kashville the 
publication of the Western Methodist, a popular 
weekly sheet, advocating the claims of the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church. From ill-health and other 
causes he was local for a number of years, but at 
the time of his death was a member of the Missis- 
sippi Conference." (" Methodism in Tennessee.") 

Here were two of the most renowned men of 
the West, and both of them almost superannuated, 
thrown tos^ether in the same field of labor — Lewis 
Garrett and James Gwin. Indeed, the little city 
of Nashville, in 1830, was the stamping-ground of 
the giants. 

James Gwin, among the giants, was truly dignus 
honore — the Marshal ISTey of Methodist cavaliers. 
His sword was better tempered than any of Damas- 
cus, for it was the sword of the Spirit, which is the 
w^ord of God. Grand old captain! in the name of 
his Master he "rode like a leader in the land." 

Mr. Gwin was an Indian-fighter before he became 
a preacher. He joined the Western Conference in 
1803, and died a member of the Mississippi Confer- 
ence, August 8, 1841. 



96 NASHVILLE STATION — GARRETT AND GWIN. 

We subjoin a very interesting notice of James 
Gwin by Bishop Paine: 

"At the Tennessee Conference held in Huntsville, 
Ala., November 19, 1829, A. L. P. Green was ap- 
pointed to Nashville Station, with James Gwin in 
charge. Mr. Gwin was an old man, large and ven- 
erable in appearance. Having been conspicuous in 
the great revival of 1800-1804, he was a great 
favorite among all classes of people. General Jack- 
son knew him, and greatly revered him — so much 
so that he made him a kind of head-chaplain to his 
army in the war he waged in 1815 with the British 
at New Orleans. His ardent patriotism, and the 
faithful performance of his duties as chaplain, had 
added much to his popularity. Nor was he less 
popular as a preacher than as a citizen. His per- 
son was commanding, his manners graceful, his 
voice exceedingly musical, and his preaching pa- 
thetic. He was a great singer, and thousands were 
melted into tears and penitence under his sacred 
songs. Such was the colleague of young Green on 
his first introduction to a Nashville auditory. Of 
course the young man was expected to do the greater 
part of the pastoral work — visiting the members, 
attending night-meetings, holding prayer and class- 
meetings — all of which he cheerfully did; but he had 
also to preach regularly to a large and intelligent 
audience, and studied hard to fit himself for it. 

" He presently observed that his honored colleague 
was more given to reading newspapers than books, 
and ventured to ask him how it was that he could 
preach so often and so well without reading books 



NASHVILLE STATION — GARRETT AND GWIN. 97 

and studying. The old gentleman then held in his 
hand the last issue of his favorite paper. Pausing 
awhile, and looking the young preacher full in the 
face, he replied: 'Who makes all the books? and 
where do they come from?' The reply was: 'Men 
make them ; they come from their heads, I suppose.' 
'Well, then,' was the rejoinder, 'I am a man, and 
have the books in my head.' The young man was 
blufied, but not convinced, and continued to read 
and study. It need not be added that the young- 
preacher, by his piety, fidelity to duty, and steady 
improvement, became very popular as a minister 
and a man, and retained the respect and love of 
the Church and community till his death." 

If not to some peculiar end assigned, 
Study's the specious trifling of the mind; 
Or is at best a secondary aim — 
A chase for sport alone, and not for game. 




33. 

iS'ASHviLLE Station — Bishop McKendree. 

N the third volume of the "History of 
Methodism in Tennessee" we have a full 
and thrilling account of the rise and prog- 
ress of Methodism in Nashville. We are 
informed that when Mr. Green arrived in Nashville, 
in 1829, the Church was well manned by such men 
as Joseph T. Elliston, the Rev. Matthew H. Quinn, 
John and Thomas Price, Richard Garrett, Joseph 
Litton, Harry Hill, Anthony W . Johnson, William 
Moore, Nicholas Hobson, and S. P. Anient, on the 
south side of the Cumberland; and on the north 
side the Weakleys, Vaughns, and Hoopers. Besides, 
there were, on College Side, the Parishes, Mrs. 
Groomes, and Mother Hughes. We might also 
make honorable mention of the Mannings, the 
Bibbs, the Hobbses, and others, many of whose de- 
scendants are still with us; but we are not w^riting 
the history of Methodism, and must forbear. 

The principal preaching-places were on Church 
street and College Side, which appointments the 
two pastors filled on Sunday alternately. The 
building on Church street was "a little east of the 
present buildins^s of the American office, about half 
(98) 



NASHVILLE STATION — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 99 

way between College and Cherry streets, on the 
north side. It was a comfortable house of high 
pitch, and had galleries on both sides and at one 
end. It was so constructed as to make all the space 
available; consequently, though the audience-room 
was small, it accommodated a large number of peo- 
ple. This was the principal Methodist church in 
the city till 1833." ("Methodism in Tennessee.") 

William Moore, who is at present a member of 
West End Church, was a class-leader in 1830. 
When he failed to attend, his mother conducted the 
class. Mr. Moore states that Mother Hughes occu- 
pied the famous cedar house in South Nashville, 
called "College Side." He relates that "on cyie 
occasiou, while Mr. Gwin was preaching in this 
house, a man came in with a hatchet, w^ent into the 
adjoining room, and commenced striking the door. 
Gwin only raised his voice; the man beat louder; 
Gwin only preached louder, but made no allusion 
to the disturbance. At last the man grew weary, or 
ashamed, and stopped. There was never any more 
disturbance at that place." 

We read in the "Life and Times of Bishop Mc- 
Kendree," by Bishop Paine, that "during the win- 
ter of 1829 and 1830, Bishop McKendree passed the 
greater part of his time in ^N^ashville and its imme- 
diate vicinity. The residences of H. R. W. Hill 
and J. T. Elliston — where he had homes, and 
every comfort and kindness which, in his debility 
and sickness, he could need — were his principal 
places of- staying." William Moore relates that 
"in the autumn or winter of 1829 Bishop McKen- 



100 NASHVILLE STATION — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 

dree came to Nashville, and stopped with Harry 
Hill. The Bishop had no acquaintance with the 
young pastor, and sent his host, with William 
Moore, to bring the preacher into his presence. 
The conversation was laconic and novel. After the 
salutation, the Bishop said: 'I sent a young man to 
Hopkinsville; the people were slow in making his 
acquaintance; he went around the town and bor- 
rowed tools; he made little things, and introduced 
himself thus. He did a good work. Go and do 
thou likewise.' The young preacher retired from 
the presence of the Bishop; but it was not neces- 
sary that he should follow all these instructions to 
gain favor with the people.'' 

I am not inclined to think that my father and 
Bishop McKendree fell in love at first sight, but an 
intimacy sprang up between them and ripened into 
the tenderest regard. My impressions of Bishop 
McKendree do not favor the conclusion that their 
friendship was the result of any natural affinity, 
for their dispositions were in contrast. They stood 
thus toward each other: the Bishop admired the 
calm exterior, the practical sense, and happy humor 
of the young preacher, which was reciprocated by 
reverence and esteem for the Bishop's strong mind, 
great history, and devotion to the Church. 

On several occasions my father was chosen by the 
Bishop as his traveling companion, because of his 
feeble health; for he needed constant attention. 
Bishop Paine says: 

''To contribute what he could to assist his col- 
leagues, Bishop McKendree resolved to visit the 



NASHVILLE STATION — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 101 

Societies, and to attend as many Conferences as his 
health would allow. 

"In conformity with this purpose, he resolved to 
go South during the winter, and embarked on a 
steam-boat at x^ashville. 

"Upon this trip to New Orleans he had the com.- 
pany of A. L. P. Green, then associated with James 
Gwin, in the Nashville Station. The well-known 
genial temper and social qualities of Brother Green 
rendered him always a most desirahle companion to 
the Bishop. He had a high esteem and reveren- 
tial affection for Bishop McKendree, and,* to the close 
of the good man's hfe, was his attentive, tender, 
and trusted friend. It was on this trip to 'New Or- 
leans that the incidents occurred which are narrated 
in Dr. Green's admirable sketch of the Bishop, in the 
^Biographical Sketches of Itinerant Ministers,' ed- 
ited by Dr. Summers, in 1858." (" Life and Times 
of Bishop McKendree.") 

Without good company, all dainties 

Lose their true relish, and, like painted grapes, 

Are only seen, not tasted. 






23. 

The Second Year m Nashville. 

HE eisrhteenth session of the Tennessee 
Annual Conference was held at Franklin, 
beginning l!Tovember 3, 1830. There be- 
ing no Bishop present, Lewis Garrett, sr., 
was elected President. 

So popular had A. L. P. Green become with his 
congregation, and the Xashville community, that 
the Presiding Elder was instructed, and Joseph Lit- 
ton, Joseph T. EUiston, and William H. Moore, 
were sent to the seat of the Conference, to solicit 
his return. He makes no allusion to this compli- 
ment in his Journal. The brief entry is: ''At the 
close of this year (1830) we attended our Annual 
Conference, held at Franklin, when John M. Hol- 
land and I were appointed to the ^NTashville Station." 
Mr. Garrett was returned to the District, and Mr. 
Gwin, on account of feeble health, sustained a su- 
pernumerary relation. 

Dr. McFerrin says ("Methodism in Tennessee," 
vol. iii.) : '' Mr. Holland was then in his full strength, 
and he with Messrs. Green and Gwin made a strong 
force. Few men combined so many elements nec- 
essary to constitute an able preacher as did Mr. 
(102) 



THE SECOND YEAR IN NASHVILLE. 103 

Holland. His person was attractive; his manner in 
the pulpit was easy and graceful — no affectation, no 
attempt at display; his style Avas chaste, and his 
words well chosen; his sermons were well matured, 
and delivered with earnestness and power; and they 
seldom failed to produce conviction in the minds of 
his hearers. 

''In the autumn of 1822, when about nineteen or 
twenty years of age, he was admitted into the trav- 
eling connection on trial. For twenty years he was 
a fervent, devoted minister of Christ, preaching the 
gospel within the bounds of the Tennessee, Missis- 
sippi, and Memphis Conferences. During the latter 
part of the summer of 1841, while on a remote por- 
tion of the Memphis District, he fell sick, and was 
conveyed to the town of Bolivar, where, on the 13th 
of August, he resigned his spirit into the hands of 
God." 

We read in the Journal, which we will not call 
a "diary" anymore: "The next year opened with 
rather prosperous appearances, and during the whole 
time we had much peace, and the work of God pros- 
pered, and many were added to the Church. We 
lost much by removals, but still had a net increase. 
During this year I preached on about one hundred 
and fifty new subjects, and was kept pretty busy." 

Here is an item that w^e w^ere not looking for — 
" one hundred and fifty new subjects in one year." 
He does not state how many times he preached. 
No doubt his supply of sermons was exhausted the 
first year; now he is fully out at sea, but not with- 
out a compass or a rudder; his energy, faith, and 



104 THE SECOND YEAR IN NASHVILLE. 

experience have grown. But one hundred and fifty 
subjects upon which he had never discoursed, for he 
calls them "new," and all in one year, was certainly 
an accomplishment; it would be a wonder even in 
these days of plethoric variety, j^o doubt it was 
then as it is now — the same sermon-gormand was 
in the pew. An old man might, with some damage 
to his reputation, repeat a discourse to the same 
congregation; but if a young man did it, dared to 
do it, even if it w^ere a lapsus mensis, his fair fame 
sufi:ered a lesion never to be healed in that commu- 
nity. Would it not be well to write in red ink 
upon the margin of the parchment, "Eemember 
vividly, young man, the time, and the place, and 
the subject!" Those one hundred and fifty new 
sermons were a necessity just as imperative as the 
making of bricks in Egypt, and he patiently went 
to work and made them. Yerily, a crocodile, after 
gulping down a fat pig, does not more quietly close 
his eyes, and throw up his jaw, ready for another, 
than some of our kind-hearted laymen, who, having 
devoured a flaming sermon on a hot July morning, 
return in the evening and calmly and placidly look 
up for another. All that we have to say is, Let them 
have it; if they can stand it, we can. But, waiving 
the facetious, we do really believe that some people 
have too much preaching, and others not enough; 
and yet, to insure an audience for all, we must over- 
dose the few. We pass on without making any 
change in the present plan. 

I must relate an incident that occurred during my 
father's pastorate in N^ashville. 



THE SECOND YEAR IN NASHVILLE. 105 

Jett and Black were members of the l^ashville 
Station. They were thrifty, reputable merchants, 
keeping stores on the haberdasher plan. They 
were intimate friends, though exactly opposites in 
disposition. Jett was of fair complexion, nervous, 
quick; while Black w^as a dark-skinned, bilious, 
slow man. They were both morbidly devoted to 
auctions. On one occasion after supper, Jett stopped 
by and asked his friend to accompany him to an 
auction. Of course Black went. A box of shoes 
were put up for sale. Jett bid; then Black; then 
Jett; then Black; and they were knocked down to 
Black. Jett went immediately home; Black re- 
mained till after the sale. What was his astonish- 
ment, on examining his purchase, to find that there 
was not a single pair of shoes in the box; all of 
them were odd ! He asked the auctioneer, " Who 
placed these shoes here?" and received the reply, 
"Your friend Mr. Jett." Black said not a word; 
paid for his purchase; had the box nailed up and 
stored away in an upper room of the auction-store, 
where it remained for ten or twelve months. In 
the meantime Jett had forgotten the circumstance; 
Black had kept his own counsels. The same box 
of shoes was put up for sale; Jett and Black were 
present. Jett was very much taken with the shoes; 
asked Black not to bid against him. Jett bid; then 
Black; then Jett; and they were knocked down to 
Jett. Black went home immediately; Jett, very 
much elated with his purchase, remained. Even 
after examining the shoes, he did not recognize 
them; asked who placed them there; and when 
5^^ 



106 THE SECOND YEAR IN NASHVILLE. 

told that Black did it, expressed his opinion very 
freely about Black. The next day Jett called on 
his pastor with a complaint against Black, and con- 
cluded by saying that he would not live in the 
Church with such a man ; that Black must be turned 
out, or he would go out. My father called on Black, 
who gave him a full statement of the whole affair 
from the beginning; he then called on Jett, who, 
after hearing the version of Black, said, "Well, 
Brother Green, if the Lord will give me grace, I 
will forgive him." 

The man who dares to dress misdeeds, 

Or colors them with virtue's name, deserves 

A double punishment from gods and men. 






24. 

His Makriage and His Homes. 

HAVE known a few men and women of 
the proper age whom I would not advise 
to marry — persons who employ their en- 
ergies in making others miserable. Self- 
ish people, drunkards, whining women, and persons 
of ungodly tempers, can negatively bless their race 
Ijy remaining single. What everybody says every- 
body is apt to repeat; c. //., it is a common saying 
that "marriage is a lottery," which, in the main, is 
far from being true. There may be, in some cases, 
a blind, heedless indifference upon the part of 
lovers as to the true character of each other; but 
where there is a will to know, the knowledge is at- 
tainable. Women — particularly young women — 
are good judges of men; they see the wise, the 
foolish, the noble, and the mean, in a man almost at 
a glance. There may be exceptions; but I am con- 
vinced that very few women marry madmen or 
drunkards because they have not sufficient warn- 
ing. The surprise after marriage is not that the 
beast has horns, but that neither love nor forbear- 
ance can extract his horns. Wc will turn round 
and repeat about men what we have said of women. 

(in7) 



108 HIS MARRIAGE AND HIS HOMES. 

The heathens represent Cupid, the god of love, as 
blind; the heathens were good at blunders, and this 
is one of them. People who are in love see remark- 
ably. I have known a boy -lover, through the 
merest crack of a church-door, to mirror a large 
congregation from one eye. The truth is, love 
knows more than it speaks. It is a poor palliative, 
"I was deceived," which we admit Avith some qual- 
ification. Occasionally we are arrested by a mari- 
tal paradox; e. g., a wise man marries foolishly, and 
a foolish man marries wisely. There is no decep- 
tion here; the wise man was attracted by physical 
charms, the foolish man by the graces of heart and 
intellect, ^ow, we approach what I have been 
drivino- at. A Methodist itinerant should be well 
married. His wife, because of his absence, must 
be the autocrat in the family; she is a woman in 
power, and should know how to wiekl it. Is'ot con- 
fining ourselves to Methodist ministers, we believe 
that the wives of preachers, taking them as a body, 
are the most perfect, patient, and competent of 
women. Now, be charitable enough to withhold 
your prejudgment, and instance the cases. I will 
abide the conclusion. I have never been very en- 
thusiastic about the mode of baptism, but I will 
defend preachers' wives and preachers' sons against 
the attacks of any man, provided he is sane and 
respectable. I believe the world and the devil have 
brought no "railing accusation" against preachers' 
daughters. 

This marriage-homily was suggested by a laconic 
entry in my father's Journal, which reads: ''During 



HIS MARRIAGE AND HIS HOMES. 109 

this year (1831) I married a wife." Tliis language 
is both profane and sacred. lie is brief, for the rea- 
son that he did not know what to sa}^ that he could 
say, about himself. He was married, October 19, 
1831, by the Ilev. John M. Holland, to Miss Marv 
Ann Elliston, a girl in her fifteenth year. I might 
relate some interesting incidents connected with this 
marriage; but my mother has placed an embargo 
on my pen. What am I to do? Who would read 
a biography by a disobedient son? " The ravens of 
the valley would tear it up, and the young eagles 
would eat it." Miss Mary Ann was young, but a 
mature, sensible woman. She was a graduate of 
the old l!^ashville Female Academy, during the ad- 
ministration of the Rev. William Hume. She was 
the only daughter of a widow (Mrs. Ann T. Ellis- 
ton) who had seen a great deal of trouble. The 
sorrows of her mother gave her a practical knowl- 
edge of the dark side of human experience. She 
was a good wife and mother, and she was a Chris- 
tian from a child. 

I will take the liberty of relating the following 
incident, which may be of interest to some romantic 
reader: 

The young pastor was making his home for a few 
months at Mr. Gwin's. At the same time Mrs. 
Mullen, the aunt of Miss Elliston, was boarding 
there. The niece very naturally called around to 
see her aunt, who was anxious to hear the young 
lady perform on the piano. Mr. Gwin owned no 
instrument, but there was one in the next house, to 
which the whole party, the preacher among the 



110 HIS MARRIAGE AND HIS HOMES. 

rest, repaired, and Miss Mary Ann played and sang 
"I won't be a nun." This was what the poets em- 
phasize — " the first meeting." 

I might mention, if my mother wonkl allow, a 
number of entertainments in honor of this mar- 
riage, got up in the old style, without stint as to 
quantity or expense, at Col. Anthony Johnson's, 
Col. Turner's, Joseph T. EUiston's, H. k. W. Hill's, 
James R. McCombs's, and other places; but a refer- 
ence to these things may not comport with the dig- 
nity of a preacher's biography. 

Dr. E. A. Young says: "He (Mr. Green) married 
a lady who always appreciated his talents and voca- 
tion — just such a wife as every preacher of the gos- 
pel should have. His friends were her friends." 

I cannot close this paper without making mention 
of a few, at least, of those happy homes that my 
father found in !N"ashville during his first two years' 
pastorate. Being a young man, he "staid around." 
He spent most of his time with the hospitable fam- 
ily of James Gwin ; but he found comfortable homes 
at Anthony Johnson's, William Moore's, Enoch 
Wellborne's, and James McCombs's. I have some 
pleasant recollections of that great-hearted, Chris- 
tian woman, Mrs. McCombs. She died when I was 
a child, but I still retain every feature of her face. 
I remember what a joy it was just to go on an er- 
rand to her house. She exerted herself to make a 
neighbor's child happy. The reader might laugh 
contemptuously if I w^ere to tell of the many little 
pleasant things she did. Xo matter — I have them 
all locked up in the " round tower of my heart," 



HIS MARRIAGE AND HIS HOMES. Ill 

where the spoiler cannot come; and it will be I 
who, in the presence of the Father and the holy 
angels, will add them to her crown of rejoicing at 
that day. She made a friend, and the friend was 
a child — that is all. 




Q5. 

Feanklin Station — Medicine and Genekal 
confekence. 

|HE twentieth session of the Tennessee 
Conference was held in Paris, beginning 
Thursday, I^ovember 10, 1831. Bishop 
Roberts was present and presided. This 
was the first session of an Annual Conference held 
in that part of the State west of the Tennessee 
River. The Conference was in session nine days, 
including the Sabbath." ("Methodism in Tennes- 
see.") 

The Journal is not exhausted. We open and 
read: "At the Conference held in Paris I received 
my appointment to the Franklin Station. About 
two weeks after Conference I w^as in my pulpit. 
My plan at present for filling this w^ork is to attend 
on Sundays, and stay with my family in ISTashville 
during the week, which I think best, though it is 
somewhat disagreeable, for the winter is, and has 
been, very cold; but this can be endured when we 
have prospects of doing good, though religion is at 
a low ebb." 

It must not be regarded as a reflection on the 
itinerant system w^hen we affirm that A. L. P. Green, 
(112) 



MEDICINE AND GENERAL CONFERENCE. 113 

by not removing his family, was enabled to accom- 
plish more good for the Church. In forty-three 
years of itinerating, as a married man, he never 
changed his residence, and hence, which may seem 
paradoxical, was enabled to give more of his time 
to the ministr3^ While this may encourage those 
who cannot move, it should not discourage those 
w^ho can and do move. The family of A. L. P. 
Green was not itinerant; he was, in the most com- 
prehensive sense, for he was tw^o-thirds of his time 
away from home. 

We now copy from the Journal w^hat may seem 
an erratic notion. However, the end was good, 
and "all's well that ends well." He says: "For 
the last five years I have had it in contemplation to 
study medicine, but have again and again been dis- 
suaded from it by my friends. I have at length de- 
termined to pursue the study, and, therefore, under 
the direction of Dr. John Waters, have set in for a 
regular course of reading. How I will succeed time 
must determine, but such is the state of feeling with 
me that I can make it a subject of prayer, and with 
a good conscience go into the practice after I shall 
have mastered the science. My design is good." I 
shall not attempt to explain until he has fully deliv- 
ered himself on the subject of physic. He writes : 
"For the first three months I attended my appoint- 
ments in Franklin regularly, though the Aveather 
was extremely cold, and the roads very bad. But 
few persons seemed inclined to attend the Church, 
but I felt bound to meet with them. 

"Our first quarterly-meeting was not attended 



114 FRANKLIN STATION. 

with any extraordinary work of conviction or con- 
version, but no doubt good was done. The weather 
Avas unusually cold, and the Elder, Brother Lewis 
Garrett, did not attend. I had to hold the meeting 
without a preacher or even an exhorter, but the Lord 
was with us, and during the sacrament on Sunday 
one soul was happily converted. 

"'Oct. 5, 1832. As I had at the previous Annual 
Conference been elected a delegate to the General 
Conference, I and my companions set out for 
Philadelphia — the seat of the Conference — April 2, 
1832. We were gone three months. On my return 
I found my work in Franklin just as I had left it. 
One of the preachers on the I^ashville Circuit — 
the Rev. Greenbury Garrett — had been so kind as 
to take my appointment under his charge, and 
had preached a number of times. I resumed my 
work, and, after a month or so, some religious in- 
terest became apparent; a number Avere added to 
the Church. We at length agitated the propriety 
of getting up a camp-meeting for the station, and 
the idea seemed to take finely. Ten or eleven fine 
tents were soon built. The last week in August we 
held our camp-meeting; forty -five souls were hap- 
pily converted, and as many added to the Church. 
Since that time a continuous religious excitement 
has been kept up, and I hope that many are now 
serious who will eventually be brought to God. 
Our last quarterly-meeting will be held on the 
thirteenth and fourteenth of this month, at the 
close of which I shall leave them. The Church 
will have- when I leave one-third more members 



MEDICINE AND GENERAL CONFERENCE. 115 

than when I came. What will be done with me 
another year I know not. 

"In my medical studies I am still slowly pro- 
gressing, and, if I meet with no hinderance, shall 
go through with it. 

"My mind, in a spiritual point of view, has been 
clear and composed; and I feel at present as fully 
bound to be a Christian minister as I ever did. 
Lord, help me to hold out faithful in all that's 
good, and to avoid all that's evil!" 

Physicians mend or end us, 

Secundum artem ; but although we sneer 

In health, when sick, we call them to attend us, 
Without the least propensity to jeer. 



26. 
Review of the Last Chaptek — IN'ashville 

StATIOjS^. 




|E have copied the last entry from the old 
Journal — we have solemnl}^ laid it away 
to rest; and now, before we pass on, will 
take a hurried glimpse of the last paper. 
The pastorate of Mr. Green in Franklin was made 
very pleasant by the presence and association of such 
sterling men and Methodists as Messrs. Johnson, 
Eelbeck, Park, and Ewing. The latter — Alexander 
Ewing — joined the Church at the camp-meeting; he 
was one of the campers, and brother of a life-long 
and devoted friend of my father — the late William 
B. Ewing, of Nashville vicinity. 

That my father ever had the remotest idea of 
abandoning the calling of a minister, to engage in 
the practice of medicine, I cannot believe for a mo- 
ment; he had in view what he thought would be a 
valuable adjunct. A knowledge of medicine is an 
essential in the education of a missionary to foreign 
lands — why not an essential in the education of all 
ministers? Mr. Wesley placed a high estimate on 
his medical knowledge. I^o doubt our young itin- 
erant, in the sparsely-settled regions of ITorth Ala- 
(116) 



NASHVILLE STATION. 117 

bama, had frequent use for medical knowledge. 
Called suddenly to the bedside of one taken with 
some acute distemper — a regular practitioner not to 
be reached in four or five miles — a knowledge of 
some simple palliatives might be put to charitable 
use without invading the rights of the profession. 
Indeed, a minister can bring into valuable requisi- 
tion in preaching a knowledge of human anatomy 
and pathology, in an endless chain of strong, natu- 
ral illustrations. Theology, in its broad sense, is a 
curriculmii of the sciences. 0th ei' men are confined 
to certain branches, and move in certain circles, but 
the theologian is the heir to all the possessions of 
his Father, which is the universal empire of mind 
and matter. A university, in the outfit of a minis- 
ter, must furnish him with all that it has, and then 
he is poorly prepared if he has no more. 

A. L. P. Green was a fine judge of disease. His 
diagnosis was regarded by his intimate friends as 
almost final. Whether this was genius or acquired 
by the study of medicine we know not; but we may 
venture that his study and knowledge of medicine 
served him many a valuable purpose. We can dis- 
cover no harm that came out of his physic. We 
have but one denmrrer to advance: he speaks of 
"going into the practice," but evidenHy with no 
intention of ceasing to travel. This was just a mis- 
take, that became patent in a short time; for the 
Scriptures taught him that he could not " serve two 
masters." I never heard my father speak of his 
medical studies. I remember there was in his library 
one medical book — a work on anatomy, by some old 



118 REVIEW OF THE LAST CHAPTER. 

author, perhaps Bell. There were some other more 
professional remains. My brother and I, as boys 
will do, went a rummaging one day. We grabbled 
out from the dark corner of an old closet two human 
leg -bones and a skull. Boys are practical. We 
could make no use of the leg-bones, but the skull, 
which was nicely macerated, served as a holder for 
bullets, corks, and fishing-hooks. In a few months 
the skull was spirited away. We did not believe 
that the original owner had come for it; but we had 
strong suspicions»»of our grandmother, who ques- 
tioned the propriety of using so sacred a casket in 
such a Avay. 

Mr. Green was elected a delegate to the General 
Conference that met in Philadelphia in 1832. He 
was at this time nearly twenty-six years old. He 
states that ''three months were consumed in the 
trip." It was a tedious journey, by steam-boat and 
stage. While in Philadelphia he was hospitably 
entertained by James McClintock, M.D., brother of 
the renowned encyclopedist. « 

At the Annual Conference held in iTashville Oc- 
tober 31, 1832, A. L. P. Green was appointed to the 
Nashville Station, with Pleasant B. Robinson junior 
preacher. This appointment is called in the Min- 
utes "Nashville City." William McMahon is Pre- 
siding Elder. " Bishop Andrew was present at this 
Conference, and presided. He was ordained Bishop 
this year, and this was his first Conference as a pre- 
siding ofiicer." ("Methodism in Tennessee.") 

The Rev. Pleasant B. Robinson, M.D., the col- 
leao^ue of A. L. P. Green on the Nashville Station, 



NASHVILLE STATION. 119 

"entered the traveling- connection in the Tennessee 
Conference in 1827. His preaching was distin- 
guished by good sense, a rich flow of thought, fer- 
vent zeal, deep piety, and pure pathos. His success 
as a preacher was very extensive. He was ahvays 
acceptable, popular, and useful, wherever he labored. 
In the altar he had few superiors, and his willing 
mind entered largely and successfully into this de- 
partment of the work. His last illness and death 
were caused by exposure and overwork during a 
revival in West Huntsville, where he w^as stationed 
at the time." (Official Record.) He died at his 
post, October 2, 1861. 

The two churches of the IN^ashville Station were 
filled, as before, alternately by the two preachers. 
The Nashville camp-meeting was a good feeder for 
the station; also, New Hope, on the east side of the 
Cumberland, about a mile and one-half out, had be- 
come an appointment of some prominence. 

A young man of twenty-six, who had filled the 
Nashville Station two years — the limit of the pas- 
torate — and then returned at the end of one year — 
this was a matter of congratulation, and by no 
means an ordinary ministerial experience in those 
days. 

We quote from "Methodism in Tennessee," vol. 
iii.: "In the autumn of 1831 Lorenzo D. Overall 
and John B. McFerrin were appointed to the Nash- 
ville Station. Many of the most substantial citizens 
were brought into the Church. The year following 
Alexander L. P. Green and Pleasant B. Robinson 
were appointed to the station, and James Gwin to 



120 REVIEW OF THE LAST CHAPTER. 

the African Mission, in ^N^ashville and vicinity. The 
glorious work went on, and abundant success 
crowned the labors of His servants; seven hundred 
and eighty white members were returned, and eight 
hundred and ten colored. Mr. Robinson, the co- 
laborer of Mr. Green, was an indefatigable worker, 
and was a true yoke-fellow of his colleague. 

''In the autumn of 1832 a new church-edifice was 
projected, while Messrs. Overall and McFerrin were 
in the station. During the next year the building 
was completed, under the pastoral supervision of 
Messrs. Green and Robinson. It was determined 
to call the church McKendree, in honor of Bishop 
McKendree, which name it bears till this day; and 
from its pulpit the Bishop delivered his last public 
discourse. ■ 

"About the time the McKendree Church was 
opened the Kev. John JN^ewland Maffitt visited Kash- 
ville, and preached a series of revival-sermons; the 
result was many were added to the Church." 

And now, the generation that built McKendree 
and the great men who first preached there are 
nearly all gathered to their fathers. The old church, 
like an old man, totters when her metal voice, upon 
the Sabbath-day, calls her children and her chil- 
dren's children to prayer. The history of an empire 
may be written — not the history of old McKendree. 
Who can repeat the sermons of wondrous power? 
who has noted the shining faces and happy hearts? 
who has numbered the tears shed there in forty-four 
years? But McKendree has served her day; she 
has buried her dead, and now the living will bury 



NASHVILLE STATION. 121 

her. Under the administration of the present pas- 
tor, Dr. D. C. Kelley, a new building, elegant and 
beautiful, has been projected and is in process of 

erection. 

Piety first laid 

A strong foundation, but she wanted aid ; 

To wealth unwieldy was her prayer addressed, 

Who largely gave. 




27. 
Cumberland District — Bishop McKendree. 

|HE twenty-second session of the Tennes- 
see Conference was held in Pulaski, be- 
ginning November 6, 1833. Bishop Mc- 
Kendree was present, but so feeble in 
body that he had to call Thomas L. Douglass to 
assist him in the duties of the chair. 

A. L. P. Green was appointed, by this Conference, 
to the Cumberland District, which work he filled 
four years in succession. During the session of this 
Conference the memorable meteoric shower occurred, 
about which many amusing stories are told. We 
have a graphic account of it in the " Life and Times 
of Bishop McKendree." 

It was required in those days that a Presiding 
Elder should be more than a medium man. The 
office was large, and the man must correspond to 
the office. 'No refuse or worn-out man was selected ; 
he must be social, able-bodied, religious, a good 
judge of men, and a good preacher. His coming 
■was an occasion. A quarterly-meeting was looked 
for and prepared for. The Elder was a great man, 
preached great sermons, was treated with much def- 
erence, ruled over a large territory. 
(12-0 



CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 123 

A. L. P. Green was in all points " thoroughly fur- 
nished" unto the work of a Presiding Elder. He 
was a good preacher, religious, prudent, healthy, 
and social; he knew men, and could adapt himself 
to all classes. Another qualification (which may be 
placed on the extra list) he possessed to an eminent 
deo:ree: his knowledo^e of wood-craft was remarka- 
ble. This was more a requisite then than now. 
He w^as never lost, and yet he frequently inquired 
the way of negroes, just to amuse himself with their 
ridiculous directions. 

The Cumberland was an immense District, em- 
bracing the circuits and stations in Wilson and 
Sumner counties, and extending to Dover, below 
Clarksville. Over new and almost impassable roads 
he had to ride hundreds of miles, being absent from 
home six to eight weeks at a time. He makes favor- 
able mention of his horse Pilgrim, who carried him 
many a mile during these four years of itinerating. 
Poor Pilo^rim died in the work. We know but 
little as to the details of his ministerial labors on the 
Cumberland District. Referring to a revival-notice 
of A. L. P. Green, the Rev. Thomas Stringfield, 
editor of the South-western Christian Advocate^ says: 
" Look at the following as a sample of writing a 
great many good things in a few words: 'Galla- 
tin, August 24, 1837. — Brother Stringfield: We 
have glorious times at our Cairo camp-meeting; one 
hundred and sixty-nine converts, and large additions 
to the Church; the work is still going on, I never 
saw such a display of divine power before. Our 
Douglass camp-meeting will commence this evening, 



124 CUxMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP M KENDREE. 

and we expect much there also. We have very few 
preachers in attendance. A. L. P. Green.'" 

We also insert this account, by Mr. Green, from 
the Western Methodist: 

" The camp-meeting at Saunders's Chapel, Fount- 
ain Head Circuit, commenced on Friday, September 
5. Bishop McKendree was present, and preached 
once. The audience was large and respectable, 
although the weather was stormy and inclement. 
The excitement was not great until near the close 
of the meeting, when the power of God came, and 
the glory of the Lord passed before the people. 
Between twenty and thirty embraced religion. 

" The camp-meeting at Dixon's Springs, for Goose 
Creek Circuit, commenced on Friday, September 12. 
It was well attended by both preachers and people, 
notwithstanding there was much sickness in the 
neighborhood. Great peace and harmony prevailed 
throughout the congregation, and especially among 
the members of the Quarterly-meeting Conference, 
enabling them to dispatch their official business with 
signal celerity and perfect unanimity. Christians had 
great religious enjoyment, and although the number 
of converts was not so great as could have been 
wished, yet more than twenty owned their Saviour 
before men, and tasted the joys of his salvation. 
The Rev. E. J. Allen, the preacher in charge of this 
circuit, after traveling and laboring the whole year, 
and looking up to this camp-meeting with deep 
interest, a few days before its commencement had 
been attacked with the bilious fever. He had, how- 
ever, strength enough to sustain him in reaching 



CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 125 

the ground, where he soon became worse, and on 
Saturday evening was carried from the encampment 
in a carriage. On taking his leave he implored the 
blessings of Heaven to rest on the campers, and on 
the meeting at large, and departed under the possi- 
bility that he would not see their faces any more, 
yet so joyful in the Lord that he shouted his praises 
in his bed as he was borne away. He has since 
happily recovered. 

" The Cairo camp-meeting commenced on Friday, 
September 19. The congregations were large, and 
respectable, and orderly — not a single thing having 
been observed that merited reproof during the whole 
meeting. There was deep attention to the preached 
word; Christians had sweet enjoyment, and four- 
teen persons professed to find the pardon of their sins. 

" Kew Salem camp-meeting, for Fountain Head 
Circuit, commenced on Friday, September 26. Here 
there were unusual displays of divine power. The 
good Spirit was with preachers and people from the 
commencement of the meeting; all ages and sizes 
were under its influence. Here Bishop McKendree 
preached with unusual unction and power. His 
text was, 'For to me to live is Christ; to die is gain.' 
After showing how the cause of Christ is promoted 
by the eftbrts and labors of his ministers, he came 
to speak of the gain it would be to the laborious 
minister and Christian to die. The question was, 
And tchat shall they gain? The first answer was 
that they should gain a sight of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
their best Friend; at which answer his aged cheeks 
overflowed with tears of holy joy, and the deep- 



126 CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 

Stirred emotions of his soul choked his utterance. 
A corresponding emotion rolled its power over the 
audience, to the most distant listener. 

" One circumstance is worthy of notice. On Tues- 
day afternoon, near the close of the sermon, while 
the preacher was describing the joys of heaven, 
after calling to his congregation in the following 
language, '0 come and let us go,' a gentleman of 
no ordinary inilaence and standing in society, sitting 
in the congregation, rose to his feet, rushed into the 
pulpit, took the minister by the hand, and cried out, 
'I will go with you, sir; Fll go loith you!' He was 
then asked by the minister if he would not take his 
friends with him; he said, 'Yes, sir, they shall go!' 
An invitation was then given to his friends and all 
others who had no religion to come to the altar; and 
such a rushing to an altar was never witnessed be- 
fore; the inclosure was filled to overflowing; groans 
and shouts filled the air. Between forty and fifty 
persons were happily converted at this meeting, and 
the work is yet gloriously going on in the neigh- 
borhood. 

" The fourth quarterly-meeting for White's Creek 
Circuit was attended at Ilaysboro, on the 4th and 
5th of October. On Saturday, by reason of a con- 
stant fall of rain in the morning, but few persons 
attended. The preacher took for his text, 'Where 
two or three are gathered together in my name, 
there am I in the midst of them.' After preaching 
about forty minutes, the Lord came into the midst, 
sure enough, filled the hearts of Christians with 
joy, and at the end of the service the singular fact 



CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP M'kENDREE. 127 

was ascertained that there was not a single soul 
present but what was rejoicing in God. On Sun- 
day the congregation was large; there was deep at- 
tention; many tears and shouts; and nine persons 
were added to the Church. 

"The camp-meeting at Suttle's, for Red River 
Circuit, commenced on Friday, October 10. This 
was a meeting long to be remembered by many. 
There were indeed but few preachers, but the best 
of all was that God was with the people, and be- 
tween forty and fifty were brought to a saving 
knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus Christ. 

"The White Bluff camp-meeting, for Clarksville 
Station and Montgomery Circuit, commenced Friday, 
October 17. Here Christians had not only to con- 
tend with the powers of darkness, but with the cold 
weather, the frost, and the ice; yet the whole proc- 
ess of the meeting was not unlike the heating of 
a furnace. On Monday evening the furnace was in 
full blast, and a soul was converted about every ten 
minutes for hours together, and upward of thirty 
were born to God. Upon the whole, this was a 
glorious meeting. 

"The number of additions to the Church in all 
these meetings was about equal to the number who 
professed conversion." 

Dr. Redford says : "At the age of twenty-seven 
Dr. Green is the Presiding Elder of an important 
District; a position to which, at that time, only the 
best and ablest ministers were appointed, and one 
requiring not only skill and superior administrative 
ability, but intellectual endowments of a high order." 



128 CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP M'kENDREE. 

While on this District we find him, in company 
with F. E. Pitts and John W. Hanner, on a mis- 
sionary tour through the towns and villages of Mid- 
dle Tennessee, beginning at Nashville. lie is also 
very much concerned about La Grange College, 
which was one of his literary pets. His devoted 
friend, Dr. (Bishop) Paine, was president at this 
time; Richard H. Rivers and Collins D. Elliott were 
professors. To this institution he contributed his 
money and his influence. 

In 1834 Mr. Green becomes enlisted in a very pleas- 
ant and entertaining newspaper discussion with Dr. 
(Bishop) Paine, which was continued weekly for ten 
or twelve months. Dr. Paine did not know for 
some months who was his opponent. The subject 
of discussion was, "Are the American Indians the 
Lost Tribes of Israel?*' — Mr. Green, under the nom 
deplume of "Powhatan," afiftrming, and Dr. Paine, 
under the nom de flume of "Southron," denying. 
This discussion displayed a deal of study and re- 
search. We opine that the two antiquaries tumbled 
the cyclopedias right smartly. We are impressed that 
the discussion was far superior to the subject. Like 
the alchemists, they did not find the stone, but they 
found many wonderful things more valuable than 
the stone. This controversy, on account of its length, 
will not be published with Mr. Green's papers. 

The Tennessee Conference beginning November 
5, 1834, was held in Lebanon. Bishops McKendree 
and Andrew were both present. 

In reading Dr. McFerrin's account of this Con- 
ference I cannot repress a smile when this dignified 



CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 129 

body of preachers resolves itself into a teDiperance 
society, and resolves each member into a temper- 
ance agent, empowered to go forth and organize so- 
cieties, and elects that staid, sober old worthy, 
Joshua Boucher, as president, and Thomas L. Doug- 
lass, Robert Paine, and A. L. P. Green, as vice-pres- 
idents of the Conference society. We understand 
it: at this time the war against King Alcohol was 
young, and the crusaders were warm in the fight. 

In the latter part of the year 1834 Bishop Mc- 
Kendree preached his last sermon, in McKendree 
Church, ]^ashville. A. L. P. Green, his great ad- 
mirer and traveling companion, was present. We 
will hear his impressions in an extract from his elab- 
orate "Biographical Sketch"* of the Bishop, edited 
by Dr. Summers: 

"I can, in my imagination, see him this moment, 
as he stood on the walls of Zion, with his sickle in 
his hand: the gray hairs thinly covering his fore- 
head, his pale and withered face, his benignant coun- 
tenance, his speaking eye — while a deep under- 
current of thought, scarcely veiled by the external 
lineaments, took form in words, and fell from his 
trembling lips, as by the eye of faith he transcended 
the boundaries of time, and entered upon the eternal 
world. But he is drawing to the close of his sermon. 
Now, for the last time, he bends himself, and reaches 
his sickle forth, to reap the fields ripe for the harvest. 
How balmy the name of Christ as he breathes it 
forth, standing, as it were, midway between heaven 
and earth, and pointing to the home of the faithful 

^This sketch is not among Mr. Green's papers in this book. 
6* 



130 CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'KENDREE. 

in the sky! I look again: the sickle sways in his 
hand, his strength is measured out, and he closes 
up his ministerial labors on earth with the words, 
*I add no more,' while imagination hears the re- 
sponse from the invisible glory, 'It is enough !'" 

I am glad of the opportunity of inserting at this 
place a parenthesis, which is suggested, in part, con 
amove: 

11. R. "W. Hill had employed Mr. John Grimes 
to paint the portrait of Bishop McKendree. Mr. 
Grimes was present with the implements of his art 
during the delivery of this last discourse. He suc- 
ceeded in outlining the form during the sermon, 
and with one short sitting, afterward, produced a 
small but very good likeness. 

My father procured the services of Mr. Washing- 
ton B. Cooper, an artist of whom I^ashville is justly 
proud, who, from the picture of Mr. Grimes, painted 
another portrait of the Bishop, much larger, and 
rich in imagery. This picture has been much ad- 
mired by the personal friends of the Bishop, as a 
likeness, and for its artistic finish; it is now in the 
keeping of my brother at the country home. I re- 
member, when a child, going into the parlor in 
a spell of ill-temper, and being run out by the re- 
proachful eyes of this same portrait. 

I must mention, in this connection, a brace of 
large-hearted charities: On the walls of the Bish- 
ops' Room in the Southern Methodist Publishing 
House hang the portraits of Bishops McKendree, 
Wightman, Soule, McTyeire, Kavanaugh, Paine, 
Doggett, Keener, Pierce, and Marviu^all the pro- 



CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 131 

duction of the genius of Washington B. Cooper, 
and contributed by his liberality. They are as per- 
fect as human skill can make them; and it becomes 
the Methodist Church everywhere to honor the 
noble donor who has contributed so much to the 
ocular history of Methodism. 

Mr. Green visited Bishop McKendree during his 
last illness, at the home of his brother. Dr. McKen- 
dree, in Sumner county. We have his ow^n account 
of this visit in the "Biographical Sketches." He 
says: "Itw^as the high privilege of the writer to 
spend a night with him just before his death. 
how rich wxre the words that fell from his lips! 
Among other things, I at one time said to him, 
' Bishop, I may live when you have passed away, 
and wherever I go your friends will want to hear 
from you; what shall I say to them?' To wdiich 
he answered: 'Tell them for me that, whether for 
time or eternity, alVs well!' This was a favorite 
saying wdth the Bishop, and was the last connected 
sentence that ever fell from his lips." 

Bishop McKendree died in the spring of 1835, 
and by his own request Thomas L. Douglass preached 
his funeral-sermon; but the members of McKen- 
dree, desiring a special memorial service in their 
own church, and wanting to know more about the 
good man, requested A. L. P. Green to deliver a 
funeral discourse, which he did, to a vast congrega- 
tion, June 21, 1835. This memorial was published 
by the official members of McKendree, and is pre- 
served in a book of "Conference Sermons." 

Now a digression. A traveler stops by the way to 



132 CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP M KENDREE. 

slake his thirst from a spring and to "rest under 
the shade of the trees." May we not pause occa- 
sionally, and allow our poor, enslaved pen a recess, 
and let our thoughts at random go? 

Forty-one years after the interment of Bishop 
McKendree, his remains were exhumed (in 1876), 
and deposited in the grounds of Vanderbilt Univer- 
sity. At the same time, his brother in Christ — 
Bishop Soule — was placed by his side. Through 
the courtesy of Mr. Groomes, the undertaker, I saw 
all that was left of the human body of the renowned 
McKendree — only a little dust, and in the midst the 
merest shells of the thigh-bone and the skull ; this 
was all. And this, thought I, is the great man 
whom my father loved, and talked so much about, 
and whose voice was heard from the northern lakes 
to the gulf! My faith — not my reason — came to the 
rescue: This is not McKendree; it is his mortal 
house, all gone to ruins, and in mourning, because 
of the absent spirit. Thank God that the "mouth 
of the Lord hath spoken it:" "This corruptible 
shall put on incorruption!" 

Mr. Green delivered an address to the young 
ladies of the Nashville Female Academy, December 
11, 1834, on the occasion of the semi-annual exam- 
ination. This institution was another of his liter- 
ary wards. He was trustee during the administra- 
tion of Messrs. Elliott and Lapsley. He w^as very 
fond of the " Old Academy," and supplied it with 
very substantial pabulum. 

The Tennessee Conference beginning October 28, 
1835, was held in Florence, Alabama. Bishop Soule 



CUMBERLAND DISTRICT — BISHOP m'kENDREE. 133 

was present, and presided. By this Conference Mr. 
Green was elected a second time a delegate to the 
General Conference, which convened in Cincinnati, 
May 2, 1836. During the sitting of this General 
Conference, tradition says, A. L. P. Green was hos- 
pitably entertained by Mr. Spencer, whose son was 
afterward mayor of the city. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait. 




28. 

IN'ashville Again — His Preacher 
Associates. 

'N the autumn of 1837 A. L. P. Green Avas 
appointed again to the Nashville Station, 
with Alexander Winbourne assistant 
preacher, and Fountain E. Pitts Presid- 
ing Elder. Besides MeKendree, there were College 
Side, Xew Hope, and some irregular preaching- 
places, under the care of the two pastors. 

Dr. McFerrin says ("Methodism in Tennessee," 
vol. iii., p. 123): "This year was more prosperous 
than the past, taking the numbers as evidence. The 
reports were: w^hites, four hundred and twenty- 
three; colored, four hundred and seventy -five. 
There was no missionary to the colored people, but 
the pastors of the white congregations had charge 
of the Africans. There was a missionary appointed 
to the Cumberland African Mission — the Rev. John 
Rains — who reported four hundred and twenty-five 
members. 

" Mr. Winbourne was a noble young man, whose 

race was short. At the end of the Conference-year 

he was transferred to the Alabama Conference, and 

stationed at Greensboro. His health failed, and he 

(134) 



HIS PREACHER ASSOCIATES. 135 

returned to jN^ashville, and closed his useful life at 
the residence of his brother, eight miles from the 
city. He sleeps in the I^ashville cemetery, having 
died in the faith. A neat stone marks the place of 
his repose, erected by the Tennessee and Alabama 
Conferences, as a token of their appreciation of this 
servant of God." 

As far back as my memory goes I remember 
Fountain E. Pitts. He received me into the Church 
when he was in the zenith of his fame. I was about 
nine or ten years old; heard the great preacher 
tower on one of his tremendous themes; concluded- 
it would be best for me to join the Church, and so 
stated to my father; he thought so, too; led me up 
to the altar; I joined, believing that there was a 
God, a heaven, a hell, and a plan of salvation — that 
was all, and that was enough. 

Fountain E. Pitts blazed over the land like a me- 
teor. "Great man! the people gazed and wondered 
much, and praised." 

The last contribution to the press from my father's 
pen was the obituary of Mr. Pitts. It is just and 
true, and we insert it in full: 

"Fountain Elliott Pitts was born, in Georgetown, 
Kentucky, July 4, 1808. His grandfathers Pitts and 
Craig were both distinguished Baptist preachers. 
His parents died while he was quite young; but, 
being well connected in life, his relatives took charge 
of the young orphan, and he was favored with a 
good education for his day, and at an early age gave 
signs of more than ordinary promise. He was a 
subject of converting grace, and connected himself 



136 NASHVILLE AGAIN. 

with the Church in his twelfth year. When ahout 
sixteen years old he was licensed to preach, and ad- 
mitted on trial into the Kentucky Conference in the 
autumn of 1824. He was ordained at Russellville, 
by Bishop Roberts, in 1826, and ordained elder, at 
Shelby ville, by Bishop Soule, in 1828, and that au- 
tumn became a member of the Tennessee Confer- 
ence. In 1835 he went as a missionary to South 
America. It is not necessary in this notice to fol- 
low him through his various appointments. He 
was missionary, circuit-preacher, stationed preacher, 
"and Presiding Elder. He married while young, and, 
with a growing family on his hands, had to contend 
with the difficulties common to preachers like situ- 
ated in those times — namely, heavy work and light 
pay. His life of labor and privation was incident 
to the heroic age of the Church. Brother Pitts was 
by nature richly endowed. He was a little below 
medium size, fair skin, light hair, and blue eyes, 
and when young was regarded rather handsome. 
His temperament was sanguine, always hopeful. 
His head was large, and his intellectual powers, in 
many respects, were of the highest order, and he 
was highly gifted as a speaker. His voice was full, 
clear, and musical; his enunciation distinct; his 
manner was deliberate, grave, solemn, and persua- 
sive; his language was always well -suited to his 
subject. He knew the way not only to the heads 
but to the hearts of his hearers, which gave him 
extraordinary power to control and, at will, to move 
the multitude. He preached generally without a 
manuscript, or even a note.; but by long practice^ 



HIS PREACHER ASSOCIATES. 137 

retentive memory, and well-balanced mind, he was 
seldom at fault in his style. He understood the 
doctrines of the Church, and faithfully did he de- 
fend them. Although his mind was of a poetical 
cast, with a rich fancy and brilliant imagination, 
yet he was never carried off into extreme views or 
doubtful theories, but was always sound in doctrine. 
He was, at one period of his life, one of the most 
powerful field-preachers that I ever listened to. A 
camp -meeting, especially, seemed to inspire him; 
there he showed the full measure of his strength. 
He preached generally for immediate effect, and was 
wonderfully successful in securing the fruits of his 
labor. He sang well; when in his prime he pre- 
ferred a solo, and sang to effect, consulting his own 
ear and taste rather than science in singing. He 
was powerful in prayer and exhortation, and labored 
with great success in the altar. He loved his work 
— all parts of it — and was never idle. A dull, dry 
meeting rendered him unhappy, and sometimes 
seemingly impatient; but when the ark moved for- 
ward he was happy. He was a man of large heart, 
and full of sympathy, entering into the joys and 
sorrows of all about him. He was devoted to his 
friends, and decidedly a man of peace. So strong 
were his sympathies, so large his hopes, so confiding 
his nature, that caution seemed to be overwhelmed, 
making him in business matters too sanguine for a 
safe trader. But as he grew older his thoughts 
turned almost entirely to spiritual things, and he 
became more and more devoted to the interest of 
the Church. His conversation was almost entirely 



138 NASHVILLE AGAIN. 

of the Church, the things of God, and the salvation 
of his soul. All his powers were employed in serv- 
ing the Church, frequently preaching two or three 
times in a day. He preached twice the last Sabbath 
he spent on earth. His last sermon was preached 
in Shelbyville, Kentucky, at night. On the next 
morning he returned to Louisville, and took his 
place in the General Conference, of which he was a 
member. In the evening he went to Mr. E. D. 
Hobbs's, a relative of his, some twelve miles out, 
and for two or three days was complaining of a 
slight indisposition. At length he suddenly grew 
worse, and on the 12th of May, 1874, he fell asleep 
in the arms of his Saviour. Dr. McFerrin sang a 
few verses of the old song, ' How linn a foundation, 
ye saints of the Lord;' at the close of the second 
verse he said, 'That's true!' He then said, ^ He 
that believeth in the Lord Jesus Christ hath eternal 
life,' and, repeating the words 'eternal life' several 
times, died with the words 'eternal life' on his lips. 
" His body was brought to Louisville, and taken 
to Walnut -street Church. The members of the 
Conference, in a body, came together to pay respect 
to his memory. Bishop Paine and Dr. McFerrin 
made appropriate and touching remarks, and wide- 
spread and general was the feeling produced. His 
body was then transferred to McKendree Church, 
Nashville, where all the preachers of the city and 
neighborhood, with a vast multitude of his old 
friends and acquaintances, came together, and, with 
suitable service, consigned him to his last resting- 
place. His life was a success. He won many souls 



HIS PREACHER ASSOCIATES. 139 

for Christ, finished his work in triumph, and has 
gone to his reward. May God bless those who are 
left behind I'' 

The tongues of dying men 

Enforce attention, like deep harmony; 

Where words are scarce, they 're seldom spent in vain ; 

For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. 




Q9. 
IVashville Station — Canada Question. 

ISr the autumn of 1838 A. L. P. Green was 
returned to the IN'ashville Station, with W. 
I). F. Sawrie junior preacher, and, on ac- 
count of the increase in the work, one to 
be supplied. This was Mr. Green's fifth appoint- 
ment to the Kashville Station, and indeed his last 
year as a station-preacher. 

" There was a good work this year (in l^ashville), 
but, strange to say, no statistical reports from the 
Conference were furnished the editor of the General 
Minutes." ("Methodism in Tennessee.'') 

Mr. Sawrie, the colleague of my father this year, 
was emphatically " a son of thunder." In a revival- 
meeting he was, and is now, a host. More of a 
hortative than a didactic preacher, he rushes, like 
an unbridled cyclone, to a conclusion. My father, 
when he went forth to his big meetings, was delighted 
to have Mr. Sawrie with him. 

A long residence in !N^ashville, and the influence of 
secular matters, has somewhat dampened and sub- 
dued his ardor, but at times, when the sound of the 
camp-meeting horn falls on his ear, the old fire re- 
kindles, and he is again Sawrie of 1840. We are ex- 
(140) 



NASHVILLE STATION — CANADA QUESTION. 141 

pecting, when a few years are gone, and the setting 
sun has mellowed his heart, that he will perform 
more deeds of valor than in the past. 

He was admitted into the Tennessee Conference 
on trial in the autumn of 1831 — Dr. Richard H. 
-Rivers was a member of his class. He has tilled the 
most conspicuous appointments in the Conference, 
and at this time is Presiding Elder of the Murfrees- 
boro District. 

A. L. P. Green was not elected by the Tennessee 
Conference of 1839 a delegate to the General Con- 
ference in 1840. The cause of his non-eledmi is 
not conjectural. I am reminded of a clause in the 
marriage-service : " Let him now speak, or else here- 
after forever hold his peace." We arise to explain. 

A man may ask no questions — it is better that he 
should not — if he has never been taken up; but to 
be taken up and set down demands an explanation. 
If a man becomes displeased with me, I am not sat- 
isfied m full for him to become pleased until he 
states why he was displeased. Ko respectable man, 
at the caprice of his neighbor, is morally required 
to be "a vessel unto honor and unto dishonor." 
Mr. Green was a member of every General Confer- 
ence of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, up 
to the time of his death. In the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church he was a member of the General Con- 
ference in 1832, 1836, and 1844, but not in 1840. 
He was a growing man, and was not less, but 
more, a leader in 1839 than in 1831 and 1835. The 
reader inquires, '' What was the matter? " The an- 
swer is found in the proceedings of the TennevSsee 



142 NASHVILLE STATION — CANADA QUESTION. 

Conference on the "Canada Question." We will 
hear the testimony of the Rev. William E. Doty, 
now of the Louisiana, but formerly of the Tennes- 
see, Conference. 

Mr. Doty says: "When the Canada Conference 
thought it best to disconnect itself from the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church in the United States, it 
asked for its proportion of the funds of the Book 
Concern and Chartered Fund. Dr. Green took the 
position that it was just and right. When the vote 
w^as put, I alone stood up with him. Years after- 
ward, when he was prosecuting the suit for the inter- 
est of the South, the attorney for the I**[orth made 
a strong point, asserting that Hhe vote in the Ten- 
nessee Conference was unanimous against the claim 
of the Canadians,' and pointed at and derided Dr. 
Green for prosecuting a suit in his own name against 
the Methodist Episcopal Church, when the princi- 
ple was the same in the Canada case. The South- 
ern lawyer said, 'Dr. Green, that is hard on us;' 
Mout,' said the Doctor, 'there is not a word of truth 
in it.' 'Thank God for that!' said the attorney. 
Dr. Green told me that 'he (his lawyer) withered the 
iN'orthern attorney for his want of information, as 
he had been paid to inform himself, and the record 
of the Tennessee Conference was before him.' He 
turned to the page, and there stood two votes for 
the Canadians— A. L. P. Green and W. E. Doty." 
. We add the testimony of Dr. J. W. Hanner: 
"One quadrennial Dr. Green was not elected; his 
vote defeated him. It was the Canada Question, or 
something of that sort; whether a certain body of 



NASHVILLE STATION — CANADA QUESTION. 143 

Methodists set oit from the Church should have 
their share of the Book Concern and other prop- 
erty. He voted right; there was the man, and that 
was heroism ! 

Majorities are no proof that you will right be found; 
Few were saved in the ark for many millions drowned." 

So we conclude that he was snubbed in 1839 that 
the Church might be honored in 1850. This is a 
clear case of loss and gain. His great heart would 
not have had it otherwise, for there are times when 
"the post of honor is the private station." 

I have been closely following my father through 
a chain of appointments from 1824 to 1839. The 
chapters that follow will not be shaped by any chro- 
nological or Conference guage; they will be, in a 
very sporadic sense, miscellaneous, without any 
great violence to the unities and proprieties. To 
avoid repetition, I will make no reference to a deal 
of matter contained in my father's papers. Dr. 
Green, after 1840, becomes the servant of the whole 
Church; so with a willing heart, if not a capable 
mind, we put out to sea, hoping that a propitious 
spirit will direct us at what ports to touch and how 
long to stay. However, before setting out, we will 
take a general reckoning, or bird's-eye view. 

A. L. P. Green was a preacher of the gospel for 
fifty years. He was on circuits ^yq years, on sta- 
tions six years, on Districts thirty-four years, Finan- 
< ial Secretary of the Vanderbilt two years. He was 
a Presiding Elder continuously — omitting the war 
interregnum of 1862, 1863, and 1864— until his 



144 NASHVILLE STATION^CANADA QUESTION. 

health failed, in 1872. He tilled the following ap- 
pointments: Jackson Circuit two years, Limestone 
Circuit two years, Madison Circuit one year, IN'ash- 
ville Station five years, Franklin Station one year, 
Cumberland District four years, Lebanon District 
five years, !l!Tashville District twelve years, Gallatin 
District one year, Clarksville District four years, 
Edgefield District one year, Murfreesboro District 
four years, Columbia District three years. 



d m 



80. 

Incidentals on the Districts. 

N the autumn of 1839 A. L. P. Green was 
appointed to the Lebanon District, and in 
1840 to the Kashville District, on which 
he continued four years. 
Dr. Robert A. Young says: "I remember well the 
day, in September, 1842, when fame first reported to 
my ears the name of A. L. P. Green. I had been 
converted at one camp-meeting, and had journeyed 
straightway to another, at Middleton Settlements, in 
East Tennessee. There I met a well-dressed coun- 
tryman, who informed me that we were not far from 
the neighborhood where Dr. Green was born. And 
who is Dr. Green? thought I; and is he a greater 
man than Thomas Stringfield? The gentleman ad- 
matted that in controversial theology Brother String- 
field was a match for the strongest — even for Dr. F. 
A. Ross — but Dr. Green was a poet, an orator, a re- 
vivalist, a financier, an ecclesiastical statesman, who 
lived in lN"asliville. And I remember all this." 

For four years, beginning in the autumn of 1844, 

my father served as Presiding Elder on the Clarks- 

ville District. I have now in my memory a host 

of camp-meetings on this District: great, glorious 

7 " (145) 



146 INCIDENTALS ON THE DISTRICTS. 

meetings they were, and hundreds were added to 
the Church. I attended one of them, and, notwitli- 
standing my youth, was very mucli impressed. I 
hope the reader's dignity Avill not be offended. I 
am about to rehite history that has to do with two 
of God's creatures. Lions are not the smallest 
biting things in the world, and I have known the 
profoundest men to forget their gravity during an 
attack on the cuticle and upper fascia of the spinal 
column. It is singular that a good thing and a 
great thing should suggest a very small thing. I 
never hear the word camp-meeting, however indis- 
tinctly articulated, that my mind does not revert 
to fleas. I remember how they tormented me, at- 
tacked me on the flanks, and surrounded me. I 
have a vivid recollection of retiring for the night 
in a division of the camp assigned to the sisters. 
There were between twenty-five and fifty of the 
sisters, and between twenty-five and fifty thousand 
others, male arid female. I remember, after suft'er- 
ing extreme torture, sinking into a disturbed sleep, 
and awaking with a start, almost suffocated; and 
then such a scene of carnage as presented itself! 
Not a female eye had been closed — the order of the 
night was a grand campaign against the fleas, under 
the black flag; the morning dawned, but there was 
no cessation of hostilities. I cannot recall the name 
of a single person who was converted at this meet- 
ing. With the exception of my father and the Rev. 
"William Burr, I do not remember who preached; 
and yet I pronounce it a feeling occasion, and the 
impression lingers with me still. Fleas still go to 



INCIDENTALS ON THE DISTRICTS. 147 

camp-meeting, and are still fond of little boys and 
women — fond of the former because of their free- 
dom from the flavor of tobacco, and of the latter, 
especially the young ones, because of their tender- 
ness. 

We copy an extract from a letter of the llev. 
Golman Green, "the old man eloquent," whom my 
father respected and loved. Mr. Green, at this 
writing, is an old man, buoyant in spirit and vigor- 
ous in health. He is both semper felix and semper 
fidelis. He is not a circuit-rider, but a camjp -meeting 
rider, and during the meeting-season, in the summer 
and autumn, " renews his youth." When the camp- 
meeting horn shall be heard no more, the days of 
the old man will be numbered. Mr. Green says: 

" I furnish you a narrative of events that occurred 
in Robertson county, Tennessee, while your father 
was on the Clarksville District. 

"We reached the camp-ground on Friday even- 
ing. Ministerial help was very scarce. Dr. Green 
got up in the pulpit, in his usual calm way, and 
said: 'I know you are all very much out of heart; 
you have built a very fine shelter. Now, if you 
will keep up the altar exercises. Uncle Golman and 
I will do the preaching until Wednesday or Thurs- 
day evening.' I tell you he did preach like an angel 
from heaven. Tuesday night he preached on Pro- 
crastination, which was the most powerful appeal 
that I ever heard on that subject. At its close about 
forty persons came forward for prayer; but inky 
darkness seemed to overspread the whole assembly. 
Dr. Green was so tired that he lay down in the 



148 INCIDENTALS ON THE DISTRICTS. 

camp to rest. You know how he loved Brother 
Carr. Said he, ^ Carr, go into the altar, and sing.' 
Carr went hopping in, and commenced singing, 
*Fare you well, I am going home,' and the clouds 
broke. Thirty or forty persons were powerfully 
converted in ten minutes. I went into the preach- 
ers' tent, and found your father sitting on the side 
of the bed, with tears as large as beads rolling down 
his face. He said, ' Carr's singing was as straight 
as any linger; there, it must have been the power of 
God!'" 

Dr. Young says: "I rode into Nashville in 1846, 
with the intention of joining the Tennessee Confer- 
ence, if I should be found worthy. It w^as when we 
used to have opening sermons. The old McKendree 
Church was crowded, galleries and all. Dr. Green 
was the preacher, and one young hero- worshiper was 
delighted. A year to prepare a sermon, and no 
manuscript — not even that notably dull contriv- 
ance called 'notes.' The Doctor just held forth at 
his own sweet will." 

When he spoke, what tender words he used ! 
So softly that, like flakes of feathered snow, 
They melted as they fell. 





g tt r'B 


1 



31. 

HiSTOEIA SaCEA. 

N the autumn of 1848 Dr. Green was ap- 
pointed to the Lebanon District, and in 
the autumn of 1852 to the Nashville Dis- 
trict, serving four years on each. 
Between 1843 and 1852 there were "matters of 
great pith and moment." It was one of the destiny 
periods of Methodism. There was the General 
Conference of 1844 in 'New York, with its great 
speeches on the cases of Harding and Bishop An- 
drew; and the "Plan of Separation," a very sensi- 
ble, honest document, which was mummified and 
laid away in the joint museum of the Churches; 
and then followed the Convention of the Southern 
wing, in 1845, in the city of Louisville, and that 
very exhaustive, lucid, and historical paper, called 
the "Report," which is an aclmirable expose of the 
Southern Methodists on the slavery question and 
other matters. Then follows the first General Con- 
ference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, 
in Petersburg, Virginia, in 1846; and the General 
Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, in 
1848, in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; and the second 
General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal 

(149) 



150 HISTORIA SACRA. 

Church, South, in 1850, held in St. Louis, Missouri. 
And the Church suits began in 1850. 

]!Now, gentle reader, will you have a digest of all 
these Conferences, with a detailed account of the 
"Convention" and the "Church suits?" I do not 
think that you are able to bear it. Indeed, we are 
standing in the presence of a triumvirate, w^ho have 
invested all the held — Dr. Myers and Dr. Hedford, 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, and Dr. 
Elliott, of the Methodist Episcopal Church. The 
end of this great controversy is not yet, and, we 
opine, will not be until the champions who fought 
in the arena of 1844 have been gathered to their 
fathers. There is now too much of the ccclesiasticum 
odium to allow a fair discussion. Indeed, judging 
from the proceedings of certain iN^orthern Confer- 
ences, the Methodist Episcopal Church has not fully 
realized that African slavery in the South is non est. 
Prejudice will not take its flight until the hone of 
contention is disintegrated and scattered to the winds 
— not even the fossil must remain. We will perpe- 
trate a mathematical antithesis, by taking a few 
specimen bricks from the pyramids, and leaving be- 
hind just as many as there were at first. 

Dr. Green was a member of the General Confer- 
ence of 1844. There are many things that we should 
like to know, that the dignified journalist, or secre- 
tary of a General Conference, will not condescend 
to chronicle. AYe have the tradition that, with an 
end in view^, he was incessantly and persistently at 
work during this session. He was only thirty-eight 
years of age, and therefore did not take an active 



HISTORIA SACRA. 151 

part in all the deliberations on the Conference- 
floor; for there were manv silver-haired men there, 
whose memories were teeming with the history of 
the Church. Whatever w^ere the outward phases 
of discussion, ''African Slavery" was the absorbing 
nucleus, about which all hearts and minds gathered, 
dreading the result, and yet satisfied that it would 
be for the best that the discussion which had been 
disturbing and agitating the Church for nearly fifty 
years should come to an end. In the cases of Har- 
ding and Andrew^ the question had assumed shape, 
and could be waived no longer. 

Dr. A. H. Redford says: "The discussion was 
continued, till the 30th of May, during which time, 
in addition to the speeches already referred to, 
Messrs. Hamline, of Ohio, Cartwright, of Illinois, 
and Dr. Durbin, of Philadelphia, addressed the Con- 
ference in favor of the substitute, and Messrs. Green, 
of Tennessee, Smith, of Virginia, Stamper, of Illi- 
nois, Sehon, of Ohio, Dunwody, and Dr. Capers, of 
South Carolina, against it. The speeches delivered 
on this occasion have seldom been equaled and never 
surpassed in the Senate Chamber of the United 
States." (" Organization of the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church, South.") 

For the benefit of the reader who may not have a 
History convenient, I subjoin the radical and noto- 
rious "Substitute:" 

"Whereas, The Discipline of our Church forbids 
the doing of any thing calculated to destroy our 
itinerant general superintendency; and whereas. 
Bishop Andrew has become connected with slavery 



152 HISTORIA SACRA. 

bj marriage and otherwise, and this act having 
drawn after it circumstances which, in the estima- 
tion of the General Conference, will greatly embar- 
rass the exercise of his office as an itinerant General 
Superintendent, if not in some places entirely pre- 
vent it; therefore, 

^^JResolved, That it is the sense of this General 
Conference that he desist from the exercise of this 
office so long as the impediment remains. 

" J. B. FiNLEY, 

^'J. M. Trimble." 

Examples I could cite you more; 
But be contented with these four; 
For when one's proofs are aptly chosen, 
Four are as valid as four dozen. 




33. 

Doctor of Divinity. 

|N the first day of October, 1845, the hon- 
orary degree of Doctor of Divinity was 
conferred by the University of I^ashville 
on Messrs. A. L. P. Green, Robert A. 
Lapsley, and John T. Wheat. Mr. Lapsley was a 
Presbyterian minister, and Mr. Wheat a Protestant 
Episcopal clergyman. This degree may be esteemed 
more an honor as Mr. Green was intimately ac- 
quainted with every member of the Faculty. 

I am indebted for information to Dr. J. Berrien 
Lindsley, ex-chancellor of the University of i^ash- 
ville, and son of Dr. Philip Lindsley, deceased, who 
is at present connected with the Nashville Board of 
Health, and I believe at this date is the most promi- 
nent man in the State in the department of archae- 
ology. He has the second-sight and fossiliferoiis av- 
arice of an antiquary, and carefully stores away that 
which is strange and that which is old. He is at 
present preparing a ivork of memories, which will be 
of great interest to all our citizens who love to read 
about those great men who brought religion and 
civilization to the valleys of Tennessee, and whose 
dust is still with us. 

7* (153) 



154 DOCTOR OF DIVINITY. 

Dr. Lindsley says: ^'At the Commencement of 
the University of Nashville, held October 1, 1845, 
the degree of Doctor of Divinity was conferred 
upon A. L. P. Green. Dr. Philip Lindsley, then 
head of the University, was remarkably chary in 
conferring such honors, as the University catalogue 
during his long administration fully shows. Dr. 
Green at that time was comparatively a young man, 
and the honor came entirely unsought. President 
Lindsley knew him well, and esteemed him highly 
as a man of solid native parts, of indomitable en- 
ergy, and of high promise for usefulness in the 
Church and to the public at large. Until President 
Lindsley's removal from Nashville iu 1850, a very 
cordial and friendly intercourse was kept up be- 
tween the two Doctors; the President viewing with 
marked satisfaction his friend's growing reputation 
as an orator and a writer." 

Li running my eye over the honorary list of the 
University of Nashville, I find the names of a num- 
ber of my father's nearest and best friends, all of 
whom, but one, have been honored by their Heav- 
enly Father with crowns of righteousness. Upon 
Bishop Paine was conferred the degree of Master 
of Arts, in 1826; and the same degree upon Eobert 
B. C. Howell, in 1839. Bishop Soule was elected 
Doctor of Divinity in 1827, John T. Edgar in 1834, 
and A. II. Erwin in 1856. 

We yield to the temptation of inserting a para- 
graph at this point. 

The conferring of honorary degrees by the uni- 
versities has, in a private way, been severely criti- 



DOCTOR OF DIVINITY. 155 

cisecl by seemingly neglected or disappointed parties. 
The allegation is not that the universities reach too 
high, but sometimes stoop too low — even bartering 
their honors for influence. We have never heard 
this matter fully discussed, and question whether in 
most instances the assumptions can be sustained. 
There is a w^ide divergence between the degrees of 
A.M. and D.D. I suppose an education, however 
complete, would not entitle just any man to either 
of these degrees. It would require the most skill- 
ful diplomacy and disgusting favoritism to steer an 
educated fool through a respectable Faculty into the 
Doctorate of Divinity. This honor is conferred 
not so much upon classically educated men as upon 
wise men. It may be assumed that a Doctor of Di- 
vinity, whether a preacher or a layman, is learned 
in biblical knowledge. When the eyes of a uni- 
versity are turned upon a preacher with honorable 
intentions, the question is naturally sprung, lias he 
succeeded in the central idea? in other words, Can 
he preach effectively? A good chair-maker is not 
simply one who has an abundance of good material, 
but one who can make a strong, good chair. I have 
very much admired the honors of some men, done 
up in gilt frames and hung up on the wall; I have 
struggled through the Latin sentences, and then, 
like a child, have turned to the men themselves and 
wondered, "Is it possible?" We conclude that he 
is not a wise preacher who cannot put to a practical 
account what he knows, for wisdom is wiser than 
learning. A. L. P. Green was selected as a suitable 
person upon whom to confer the degree of Doctor 



156 DOCTOR OF DIVINITY. 

of Divinity for the reason that he was a luise man, 
was learned in practical theology, knew men, and 
knew how to preach to them. 

The reader will pardon another short paragraph, 
as this is my first and will be my last opportunity 
to instruct the universities. As a class, the men 
who become candidates for collegiate preferment are 
not solely influenced by the greed for honor; there 
is a matter of utility that comes in. Like a sailor 
who puts his vessel under a full spread of canvas, 
with an eye to the practical as well as the beautiful, 
so the candidate for university favors, while he is 
pleased with the anticipated honor, contemplates 
filling his sails with wind and gliding with more 
celerity through some literary enterprise. 

How empty learning, and how vain is art, 
But as it mends the life and guides the heart! 




38. 

The Chuech Suits. 

iHE first General Conference of the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church, South, convened 
in Petersburg, Virginia, on the first day 
of May, 1846. This Conference adopted 
the following report: 

'•'• Resolved^ by the Delegates of the several Annual 
Conferences of the Methodist ^piscojml Church, South, 
in General Conference assembled. That three com- 
missioners be appointed, in accordance with the 
Plan of Separation adopted by the General Confer- 
ence of the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1844, to 
act in concert with the commissioners appointed by 
the said Methodist Episcopal Church to estimate 
the amount due to the South accordins: to the afore- 
said Plan of Separation, with full power to carry 
into effect the whole arrangement with regard to 
said division. 

'^Resolved, That John Early be, and he is hereby, 
authorized to act as the agent or appointee of the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, South, in conformity 
to the Plan of Separation." 

There w^ere four resolutions in connection with 
the above that we think not necessary to insert. 

(157) 



158 THE CHURCH SUITS. 

"Immediately after the adoption of this report, 
the Conference proceeded to the election of com- 
missioners by ballot, and on the first balloting 
H. B. Bascom, A. L. P. Green, and S. A. Latta 
were elected. IlTathan Bangs, George Peck, and 
James B. Finley had been appointed commissioners 
on the part of the Church (North) to act in concert 
with the same number of commissioners appointed 
by the Southern organization. 

''On the 25th of August, 1846, Messrs. Bascom, 
Green, and Latta met in Cincinnati, and addressed 
a communication to the commissioners appointed 
by the Methodist Episcopal Church." For the cor- 
respondence between these commissioners I must 
refer the reader to the " Organization of the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church, South," as it is too long for 
insertion. However, I must state that the INTorth- 
ern commissioners concluded that they (themselves) 
had no authority, and therefore respectfully declined 
to act in the premises, as their action would (to use 
their own language) "be null and void." 

"From this period until the subsequent meeting 
of the General Conference of the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, no f/lrther steps were taken by the 
Southern commissioners. 

" The General Conference of the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church met in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, May 
1, 1848, and on the 12th the commissioners of the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, South, submitted to 
that body a communication, to which no reply was 
made, nor was it referred to a committee." 

Dr. L. Pierce knocked at the door of this Confer- 



THE CHURCH SUITS. 159 

eiice as a fraternal messenger from the Methodist 
Episcopal Church, South, with what success I 
should be mortified to relate. 

"As H. B. Bascom did not reach Pittsburg until 
the 13th of May, Dr. Pierce was in due form sub- 
stituted in his place ad interim.. Dr. Latta being 
prevented by extreme illness from attending, the 
Eev. C. B. Parsons was duly appointed ad interimm 
his place." 

The Southern commissioners, despairing at last 
of a fraternal settlement, drafted this resolution : 

'^Besolved, That it is expedient and necessary, in 
view of the interests and rights in controversy, that 
the necessary suits be instituted, as soon as practica- 
ble, for the recovery of the funds and property fall- 
ing due to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, 
under the contract of the Plan of Separation adopted 
by the General Conference of 1844." 

The history of the Church suits, is it not recorded 
by Dr. Redford and others? 

" The first suit was brought in the city of N'ew 
York, against George Lane and others, for a divis- 
ion of the Book Concern in that city. D. Lord, the 
Hon. Reverdy Johnson, and Mr. Johnson, jr., ap- 
peared as counsel for the plaintifis, and the Hon. 
Rufus Choate, George Wood, and E. L. Fancher for 
the defendants. Thp case was tried before the Hon- 
orable Judges IlTelson and Betts. It was decided in 
favor of the plaintiffs. 

" The suit for the division of the Book Concern 
in Cincinnati was brought in the city of Columbus, 
in the United States Circuit Court for the District 



160 THE CHURCH SUITS. 

of Ohio. The Hon. Mr. Stanberry was employed by 
the plaintiffs, and Messrs. Badger and Ewing by the 
defendants. The court was presided over by the 
Honorable Judge Leavitt, who rendered a decision in 
favor of the defendants. The Southern commis- 
sioners appealed from the decision to the Supreme 
Court of the United States. This court was com- 
posed of Chief-justice Taney, and Associate-justices 
Wayne, Catron, Daniel, I^elson, Greer, Curtis, and 
Campbell. The cause was heard in Washington 
City, in April, 1854, and was decided in favor 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, without 
dissent from any of the Justices, The opinion of 
the court was delivered by Judge l^elson, April 25, 
1854." ("Organization of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, South.") Judge McLean did not sit on 
this case because his sympathies and convictions 
were with the South, while he was a member, and 
a devoted one, too, of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church. 

To say that Dr. Green was mainly instrumental 
in the success of the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
South, in these suits; that he was absent from home 
three and four months at a time; that he labored 
almost incessantly during the prosecution, and even 
months before; that he adopted every feasible plan, 
and availed himself of every r^ource, is not saying 
too much. In view of the services he performed, 
a grateful Churcb is willing to render "honor to 
whom honor is due;" and, we believe, as the years 
roll on this appreciation will increase. 

"The Methodist Episcopal Church, South, also 



THE CHURCH SUITS. 161 

claimed an interest in the Chartered Fund, located 
in Philadelphia, which was paid over to the agents 
withont recourse to the law. From these several 
sources the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, re- 
ceived over three hundred thousand dollars." ("Or- 
ganization of the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
South.") About one hundred thousand dollars of 
this was canceled by debts owed to the I^orthern 
House. 

I must make mention of Colonel Alexander Cum- 
mings, editor of the Philadelphia Bidletin, and a 
warm personal friend of my father. Although a 
member of the Methodist Church (l!^orth), Colonel 
Cummings, without compensation, rendered valua- 
ble service to the (Southern) Church in obtaining 
its part of the Chartered Fund, for which the friends 
of Southern Methodism will hold him in grateful 
remembrance. The house and board of this great- 
hearted man were open and free to my father and 
his traveling companions during their stay in Phil- 
adelphia. Colonel Cummings, with his family, vis- 
ited Columbus, Georgia, during the session there of 
the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, South, in 1854, where many a warm grip 
testified the gratitude of those whom he had favored. 
■The Rev. Elisha Carr, who was present in Colum- 
bus at this time, made the acquaintance of Colonel 
Cummings and his family, and, hearing of their lib- 
erality, was so inspired with love and admiration 
for them that he said, "On my way to heaven I am. 
going to stop by Philadelphia and see them," which 
he did. 



162 THE CHURCH SUITS. 

Bishop McTyeire, with reference to Dr. Green's 
services as a commissioner in conducting the Church 
suits, says: "As subsidizing excellences and accesso- 
ries to his characteristic quality, it may be men- 
tioned that he was a man of affairs. The volume 
of his brain and his commanding person made it 
so that in whatsoever direction he turned himself he 
had force. 

"When reluctantly the Church South brought 
her claim against the Church North, for an equita- 
ble adjustment of common property, after the Sep- 
aration of 1844, Dr. Green, with two others, was 
charged with the conduct of the business before the 
Supreme Court of the United States ; and in all its 
stages more than property was at stake. His col- 
leagues on the commission died, and though their 
places were filled, it is beyond question that he did 
a service for the Church and country in that matter 
that has never been appreciated, because never un- 
derstood. His mind took in all the subject, and di- 
rected and inspired the great lawyers who pleaded 
the cause." 

Considering Dr. Green as " a man of aftairs," Dr. 
Summers says: "Thousands will echo the language 
of David, and with tenfold more pertinency than 
he said it in regard to Abner: 'Know ye not that 

THERE IS A PRINCE AND A GREAT MAN FALLEN THIS DAY IN 

Israel? '* When he fell it was as when ' a standard- 
bearer fainteth.' Who are there among us ' who 
can bend his bow? ' Where is the ITestor that shall 

^Bishop McTyeire's text on the occasion of Dr. Green's 
funeral. 



THE CHURCH SUITS. 163 

stand up like him, a head and shoulders higher than 
others in our councils? He was eminently the 
statesman of the Church. He had a massive brain, 
level head, well-balanced faculties, and many-sided 
powers. He w^as calm, deliberate, cautious; yet de- 
cided, outspoken, and firm. His long and intimate 
association with Bishop McKendree, having been 
for some time his traveling companion, and subse- 
quently w^ith Bishop Soule, had a happy influence on 
Dr. Green. He had a high appreciation of those 
princes in Israel, imbibed their views, and formed 
his character largely upon their model. In many 
respects he was the superior of both. In the mem- 
orable session of the General Conference of 1844, in 
New York, he was looked up to as a wise counselor; 
leading ]!^orthern ministers sought his advice, and 
begged him to overcome his reluctance to the Plan 
of Separation and sanction that measure, so essen- 
tial to the welfare, not to say the existence, of the 
Church, knowing the influence of his character and 
opinions ISTorth and South. 

"As a commissioner on the part of the Church 
South to settle the property question, he evinced 
a w^ise diplomacy and conciliatory spirit which 
greatly enhanced his reputation in both Connections. 
During the entire vexatious controversy no man was 
more acceptable in the Methodist pulpits of ]N"ew 
York, Philadelphia, and other Northern cities, than 
Dr. Green." 

The reference of Dr. Snmmers to Bishop Soule 
reminds me, there existed between the Bishop and 
my father the closest intimacy, which antedated 



164 THE CHURCH SUITS. 

1844. They were thrown together much during 
the pendency of the Church suit in 'New York. 
There was mutual admiration and a oneness of opin- 
ion and feeling between them. I extract from a 
letter of the Rev. William E. Doty, which is to the 
point: "I write to give you the estimate in which 
Dr. Green was held by Bishop Soule in 1845. I 
carried the Bishop and his wife from my house to 
Marshall, the seat of the Texas Conference. As 
the General Conference was to convene in Peters- 
burg the following year, I asked him who would 
probably be made Bishop. He promptly answered, 
'Dr. Green.'" 

I remember going into my father's room at night, 
at an Annual Conference in Clarksville. His room- 
mate. Bishop Soule, had retired. The cabinet 
meeting was not over, and the Bishop was alone, for 
he was not presiding at that Conference. Rising 
up in the bed, he pointed to a box near by, and 
asked me to open it and help myself to a bunch of 
grapes, but not disturb the bunch lying on the table. 
The next day I inquired about that bunch on the 
table, and was informed that a friend had presented 
the Bishop a box of grapes, and that it was his 
habit to eat a bunch in the morning and at night, 
and that he never failed to leave a bunch for Dr. 
Green at night. 




34. 
Slavery and Dr. Green. 

[E presume that slavery had somewhat to 
do with the division of the Church. The 
same leaven ultimated in the late war. As 
some of the wise men put it, "It was the 
occasion, but not the cause, of the separation." There 
is certainly some logical acumen in this, which we 
are not inclined to either probe or analyze. To our 
blunt mind the cause was about equal to the occasion, 
and the occasion was a very good excuse for the 
cause. Yerily, the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
South, had the right, under its biblical charter, to 
disclaim any political character. If it was proslavery 
or antislavery, it was a politico-religious Church. (I 
speak of the Church prospectively, as nominally it 
had no existence before the Convention in Louis- 
ville.) While a Church may not be proslavery or 
antislavery, its ministers may. Men, not Churches, 
are politicians. Every man in the General Confer- 
ence of 1844 was either proslavery or antislavery, 
and their votes and speeches were influenced accord- 
ingly. In many instances the fro and the anti were 
the accidents of education and location. Antislav- 
er}^ men from the North, after a residence of a few 

(ir>5) 



166 SLAVERY AND DR. GREEN. 

years in the South, became proslavery, and the same 
might be said vice versa of the effects of a !N"orthern 
residence upon proslavery men. As it is not my 
purpose to accuse or excuse, or to revive an old story, 
I will take a hurried glimpse of the Southern atti- 
tude on the slavery question in 1844. 

African slavery was an institution in the Southern 
States in 1844. The members of the Southern wing 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church were, many of 
them, slave-holders; they had no conscientious scru- 
ples on the subject; they held that the ownership in 
slaves w^as a right, jure divino. [N'o Annual or Gen- 
eral Conference action could have disturbed the insti- 
tution of slavery in the South in the slightest degree. 
It was a fixity in law and in conviction. Any Church 
legislation against it would have been like Don Quix- 
ote's battle with the windmills — somebody would 
have been hurt, but not the windmills. If the South- 
ern delegation in the General Conference of 1844 
had favored by their votes the silencing or suspen- 
sion of Harding and Andrew, either the delegation 
"would have been cut off or the Southern w^ing of the 
Church destroyed forever. Years of labor and of 
prayer established Methodism in the South, and 
there was too much comeliness and grace to be sacri- 
ficed for naught. 

I have had a grudge against slavery for the trouble 
it gave the Church, and because of the noble and 
honest blood that was shed in its defense. When 
the dark shadow passed out and on, I was tempted 
to slam the door on its back. I speak only for my- 
self. 



SLAVERY AND DR. GREEN. 167 

Dr. Grreen was a proslavery man, but was never a 
radical in his love for, or in his defense of, the in- 
stitution. He was associated with, and knew inti- 
mately, many of the old antislavery preachers, and 
was just as intimate with a multitude of the modern 
proslaver}^ preachers. He imbibed some of the sym- 
pathy of the former, and embraced the convictions 
of the latter. He was not proslavery just in order 
to be "subject to the powers that be;" there was 
principle that lay far beneath this. He even vvent 
so far in his newspaper articles as to administer a 
little ridicule for the benefit of his antislavery 
friends. He favored the institution when it was 
properly controlled and a blessing to the slave. He 
believed the negro incompetent and unfitted for 
self-government, and hence a wise, good master was 
a necessity. Mr. Webster's definition of shivery — 
"a human being held as goods and chattels" by 
another — he never indorsed, neither did any other 
Southern Christian. The grosser form of slavery 
was revolting to him. On one occasion he found 
his sympathies so wrought upon by the cruelty of a 
master to an old slave that he sprang to his feet, and 
gathered hold of a chair to strike down the tor- 
mentor, but was restrained by the reflection that he 
was his guest. 

Dr. Green never inflicted corporal punishment 
upon a slave, not because he did not think physical 
punishment sometimes necessary to the welfare and 
government of the slave, but for the same reason 
that he never corporally punished his children. 
He never used the severer when the milder means 



168 SLAVERY AND DR. GREEN. 

availed. He never purchased but two slaves, and 
these he bought under his own protest, at the urgent 
solicitation of the negroes themselves. His reason 
for this was not any scruple about the evil of own- 
ership, but because he had the good sense to know 
that slave property was not the most remunerative. 
As far as any principle was involved, to own one 
slave was the same as to own a hundred. 

A family of negroes was presented to him, which 
he sent, at his own expense, into a free State; they 
continued to write to him for years, begging to be 
received back into their former condition. 

My mother and grandmother owned three negro 
families, not one of whom ever called my father 
"master" — why I know not. 

The only practical use that Dr. Green had for a 
negro was to listen, with the greatest interest, to his 
ridiculous gabble; for many of his side-splitting an- 
ecdotes were negro speeches and religious experi- 
ences abounding in big words. 

In concluding this paper, I must whisper to my 
friends on both sides, For the sake of truth and 
charity, do not extract, but take with you the whole 
of this chapter. 




35. 

Camp-meeting Incidents. 

IE liave a communication from the Rev. 
William Doss, a member of the Tennes- 
see Conference, and the successor of my 
father on the Columbia District. Mr. 
Doss belongs to the old guard. He writes: 

"Dr. Green was a man of extraordinary faitli, 
which the following incident will illustrate: 

"At the first camp -meeting held at Hurricane 
Switch — a camp-meeting which owes its existence 
to Dr. Green more than to any one else — I was 
called upon to preach the opening sermon, which I 
did, on the subject of Faith. As an illustration I 
stated the incident referred to. Some time after 
the service Dr. Green arrived, and I spent the night 
with him. In conversation I mentioned the inci- 
dent, and related it as I had used it in the sermon, 
and asked him if I had stated it correctly. He 
replied, ' Yes, only you did not make it strong 
enough,' and then proceeded to state the case, as 
near as I can recollect, in the following language: 

" ' I once held a camp-meeting in a very wealthy, 
aristocratic community. I made my best efforts, 
but they seemed to make little or no impression 
8 (169) 



170 CAMP-MEETING INCIDENTS. 

upon the people. After I had done all I could do, 
as I thought, I left the stand and walked toward 
the preachers' tent, under the influence of this kind 
of feeling: You have just as much right to go to 
hell as an}' people in the world; so just go! But 
before I reached the tent a strange impression, or 
impulse, came upon me, which brought me suddenly 
to a stand-still, while the thought rushed into my 
mind. You have been depending too much on the 
strength of your own efforts; you have not trusted 
sufficiently in God! I turned around and walked 
back to the stand, took my position in the altar, 
and commenced talking in a conversational tone of 
voice, and stood there talking on, with scarcely any 
physical effort, until I talked sixty-two sinners into 
the altar.' " 

We have also an interesting letter from Dr. J. G. 
Wilson, which may be inserted in this connection. 
Dr. Wilson is a native of Nashville; was formerly a 
member of the Tennessee, but now of the St. Louis, 
Conference. He says: 

"From the hands of Dr. Green I received my 
license to preach, at Walton's Camp-ground, in the 
summer of 1849. I was brought up in the Cumber- 
land Presbyterian Church ; was converted at Pope's 
Camp-ground, and joined the Cumberland Presbyte- 
rian Church in Nashville. Before receiving license 
to preach, and while looking into matters with that 
view, I became dissatisfied with Cumberland Pres- 
byterian doctrines on certain points, and remember 
a conversation with Dr. Green on that subject, at 
the close of which he said, 'Well, John, if von fall 



CAxMP-MEETINa INCIDENTS. 171 

through the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, the 
Methodist is next to it, and I reckon it will catch 
you.' I am proud to say that this is as near to pros- 
elyting as any Methodist came in my case. 

"My first sermon was preached under Dr. Green's 
direction. I shall never forget. We had dined at 
the same tent, and after dinner we sat talking to- 
gether for some time in the rear of the tent. Start- 
ing afterward to walk together toward the church, 
in w^hich several of the preachers lodged, he said, 
^ Well, Brother John, I reckon you must preach for 
us at the next hour.' 'You are joking. Doctor,' 
said I; 'I am not licensed to preach yet.' (This 
was on Saturday ; my application for license was to 
come before the Quarterly-meeting Conference on 
Monday.) 'We'll see,' he replied, in his own pe- 
culiar way. Presently, at the church, one of the 
preachers asked, 'Doctor, who preaches the next 
hour?' 'We '11 have to try Brother John,' was his 
reply. ' The Doctor wants to see if you will do to 
license to preach,' said one of the preachers. ''No, 
no,' said the Doctor; 'we'll not judge him by this 
effort. If he preaches a poor sermon, we'll think 
he was scared, and will do better next time; and if 
he preaches a good sermon, we will think he got it 
out of some one's book.' Just then the horn 
sounded, and I had to get to the stand, find my 
text, and blaze away, off-hand. 

" One gift Dr. Green possessed in greater measure 
than any preacher I ever knew — I mean that of 
reaching and moving a man by a remark thrown in 
at an odd moment and in an unexpected manner. 



172 CAMP-MEETING INCIDENTS. 

Two instances which occurred at the above meeting 
may serve to illustrate this. 

" While we were sitting in the rear of the tent, 
talking, as above-said, there was seated not far from 
us one of those men, often seen, who are good lobby- 
members of the Church — that is to say, they are 
friends to religion in a patronizing sort of way, 
glad to see it moving on, ready to help a meeting 
in any way, but who seem to feel that they them- 
selves have no personal interest in it. Several mem- 
bers of the Church had for some time been talking 
with this man about religion, and he was parrying 
what they had to say, when presently, to the sur- 
prise of all. Dr. Green broke in, as if angry: 'Go 
away, and let that man alone! there have been 
counsel and prayers enough wasted on him to have 
converted twenty better men. It is his privilege to 
go to the devil if he is determined to do it.' The 
idea that Dr. Green seemed disposed to give him up 
to be damned, and that he should be vexed with 
those who tried to prevent it, appeared to strike the 
man as with a galvanic shock. ' no. Doctor! ' said 
he, with evident emotion; 'it would not do to give 
me up in that way.' The next time mourners were 
called he was one of the first to come forward. 

"At another time Dr. Green, looking earnestly 
and fixedly into the face of another man of the 
same sort, without a word at first, at last said, 
gravely, 'W., I am concerned for you. You have 
passed through meeting after meeting at this place, 
and I have been watching you during the meetings. 
You stand up by the altar when the fire is burning 



CAMP-MEETING INCIDENTS. 173 

hottest, and the sparks fall all over you, and' — suit- 
ing the action to the words — 'you have only to 
shake yourself, and they all fall off. I am afraid 
you are gone.' The words and manner evidently 
made a deep impression, and at the next call for 
penitents this man was one of them." 




36. 
Dr. Green and Children. 

[R. GREEN was very fond of children — not 
this one or the other, or some particular 
child, but all children — and the children 
(all children are observing) knew it, and 
were fond of him. He came to the Saviour when a 
child and ''as a child," and he retained through 
youth and manhood the simplicity of a child. He 
appreciated the unsuspicious, unenvious character 
of a child. Children are not misers, nor backbiters, 
nor skeptics, nor infidels; therefore, he loved them 
— loved to have them near him, to sit on his knee, 
to comb his hair, to hear them talk. He was inter- 
ested in their incongruous stories; he remembered 
and repeated what they said, and there seemed to 
be a kind of freemasonry between them ; for he knew 
them, and they knew him, at once. Just anybody's 
child looked up into Dr. Green's face, was inspired 
with confidence, and never forgot him. He was 
proud of the love of a child. He had scores of 
juvenile correspondents; many of them wrote to 
him their " maiden " letters, which were never " laid 
upon the table," but answered at once. He never let 
slip an opportunity to defend the irrepressible boy. 
(174) 



DR. GREEN AND CHILDREN. 175 

Writing to tlie Rev. S. W. Moore, during the ses- 
sion of the General Conference at l^ew Orleans, he 
says, "Dp not let the children forget me." 

One of his child-friends (Miss Annie Ransom), 
now grown np to womanhood, writes: "I have been 
intimately associated with Uncle Green since quite 
a child, and in my earliest childhood sought every 
opportunity to be with him, and never ceased to be 
interested in all he w^ould say. He was truly the 
children's friend. I never knew a child who did not 
love him. Knowing that I was an orphan, he coun- 
seled me as a father would a child, and, I suppose 
for this reason, manifested a special interest in my 
behalf. When the cold hand of death was laid upon 
him I felt that God had taken one of my best and 
truest friends." 

Bishop Paine says : " He was the children's prince 
of talkers. He knew just how to address them, 
and amuse as w^ell as instruct them. Like his great 
Master, he loved them, and they sought his bless- 
ing." 

Bishop McTyeire says: " His ministry to children 
was pleasing, effective, and formed a marked feature 
of his life. He held that childhood was amenable 
to the regeneration of the Spirit, but not to all the 
signs and conscious experiences that mark the con- 
version of adults." 

My father's happiest speeches to children were 
impromjytu, and drawn from his own experience. 
He knew his little auditors so well that it was not 
necessary for him to cast about but a few moments 
to i^ather tosrether what would instruct and amuse. 



176 DR. GREEN AND CHILDREN. 

Bishop McTyeire, referring to this happy mental 
readiness, says: 

"Occasionally Dr. Green had the intuitions of 
genius, and a whole line of argument flashed into 
his mind in a moment. Once, in a union prayer- 
meeting in Alabama, in 1864, he made a talk so 
unique, and original, and appropriate, I was led to 
inquire about the genesis of it; for we had gone to 
the house together, and his mind was not running 
in that direction. ' That all came to me,' he replied, 
'betw^een the unexpected call of the prayer-meeting 
leader and rising to my feet.' 

''More remarkable was his Sunday-school speech 
— the last he ever made. All who have heard it will 
agree that it was the best of its kind — unequaled 
for raciness, humor, pious and practical directions. 
Children listened with unflagging interest for an 
hour and a quarter, and children of a larger growth 
were sorry when he ended. The case, as I had it 
from himself, was this: He was in Baltimore, at- 
tending the Foreign Missionary Board, at the same 
time with the Annual Conference. A mass-meeting 
of the Sunday-schools was arranged for. Delayed 
on the w^ay, he got to the hall late. An immense 
audience had assembled, and the children were in 
uncommon array. Being second in the programme, 
he had no speech made up. The first speaker was 
introduced, and declined. The burden fell on A. L. 
P. Green; the pressure was sudden and heavy. He 
began by apologetic remarks. An old gentleman, 
more moved than the speaker intended, rose up and 
said, 'Go on, sir; we'll hear you with pleasure.' 



DR. GREEN AND CHILDREN. 177 

While these few words of kind interruption were 
being spoken, the whole plan and outline of that 
Sunday-school address was conceived, and the deliv- 
ery proceeded. That address was repeated at Mem- 
phis, at St. Louis, and at several places in Middle 
Tennessee, to large and delighted audiences. At 
the late General Conference, in Louisville, Dr. Green 
repeated it in Library Hall, and delegates who had 
heard it three or four times before went and heard it 
again with interest." 

Dr. Summers never rises so high in sublime ethics, 
nor descends so deep into profound theology, that his 
pencil may not be staid by the voice and presence of 
a child. He says: "Dr. Green took a special inter- 
est in the Sunday-school cause. He rarely failed to 
attend the Sunday-school when he had the opportu- 
nity to do so. He was at the McKendree Sunday- 
school the last Sunday he was at church. He loved 
to talk to children, to sing with them, to pray with 
them. He believed in the religion of childhood. 
He did not trouble himself much about the meta- 
physico-theological questions which beset the sub- 
ject. He believed that the Holy Spirit moves upon 
the heart of tender infancy, and he was disposed to 
follow up the motions of the Spirit on the young, 
and he claimed them all for Christ and the Church. 
And he was right. how the children loved Dr. 
Green! He was a perfect child among them; and 
they were always ready ^ to pluck his gown, to share 
the good man's smile.' " 

I might refer to the cases of a number of persons 
who, when grown to maturity, came to my father 
8* 



178 DR. GREEN AND CHILDREN. 

and reminded him of some little notice that he took 
of them when they were children, and which were 
the beginnings of their religious lives. 

The days will come, and the days will go, 

And life hath many a crown, 
But none that will press upon manhood's brow 
As light as the roses resting now 

On the children's foreheads brown. 




37. 

Philantheopy axd Other Matters. 

jO?-IETIMES we approach a particular with 
more accuracy and rapidity by advancing 
through a general. When we affirm that 
Dr. Green was the preacher's friend, we 
mean something more than mere personal regard or 
attachment. He loved the Church; the Church 
was as dear to him as "the apple of his eye." He 
loved the name, the government, and all the inter- 
ests of the Church ; and out of this general love 
was evolved much of his love for the preacher. He 
dealt tenderly and lovingly with the pastor, because 
the destiny of the pastor is intimately blended with 
his flock. In this connection. Dr. J. W. Hanner 
says: "Dr. Green's views of Church-discipline were 
liberal, manly, and lenient. He never went about 
hunting up rumors or charges to get a member out 
of the Church ; nor did he expel one for an impro- 
priety or a fault. He did not belong to that class 
of immaculate churchmen who hold that the Divine 
Master organized the difterent Churches, formulated 
their different creeds, rules, and ceremonies, as so 
many squads of saints, utterly intolerant of associ- 
ation with any sort of sinners. He believed the 

(179) 



180 PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 

Churcti to be a hospital for the sick, organized for 
the purpose of caring for the sick, and helping them 
to 'flee from the wrath to come.' Like the Master, 
Dr. Green preferred to 'let the wheat and the tares 
grow together until the harvest,' rather than to root 
up both. If a member 'be overtaken in a fault,' 
let those 'who are spiritual restore such an one in 
the spirit of meekness,' not try to destroy him by 
cutting him off in the spirit of Churchism. 

"It was when the elder members of the Confer- 
ence wore the shad-belly, and the younger, long- 
skirted frock-coats. Examining character, the Bishop 
called out: 'A. L.P.Green; is there an}^ thing against 
him ? ' A brother rose up slowly, lifted his eyes to the 
ceiling, locked his hands, with proper dignity, hori- 
zontal to the lower button-hole of his keel-bottom, in 
which was much of his piety, and said: 'We must 
not be conformed to this vain world; we must keep 
the ministry pure; I object to the cut of his coat; 
he knows that I love him, but we must take care 
of the Church.' It was a dress-coat, sometimes 
called, by the wicked, ^ siimllow-tail,' or ^claw-hammer.' 
The accused replied by stating that he worshiped one 
Sunday with the Episcopalians, who have a great 
deal of kneeling and getting up. That day he wore 
a frock-coat; somebody went down with his knee 
on the skirt of it, and being slow to rise, there was 
a hitch, which tore off the skirt. This suggested 
the idea of trying a swallow-tail, without any thought 
of wounding a brother's conscience. His character 
then passed. 

"Ah, that was an age of pious groans and religious 



PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 181 

clothes! Would it not have done your heart good 
to see a preacher ascend the sacred desk with a 
yellow w\atch-chain and sleeve-buttons, to read a 
scientitic sermon? 

" He did not wear a cane. My antipathy to canes 
is unaccountable. One likes to see an old man with 
a staff, a young man also w^ho is crippled or mighty 
weak in body or mind. But a healthy man under 
sixty-five carrying a cane! well, whether it is a fop- 
pish mockery of manhood, or something else, one 
doesn't know. Give me to choose a manly friend 
from a dozen men never seen before; let six have 
canes and six have none; my choice would be a 
man without a cane." 

I am not inclined to spring a discussion with the 
Doctor on the subject of canes; indeed, I have a 
sort of innate prejudice against them myself; but, 
with all due respect to his opinion, circumstances 
must alter cases, even as regards young men. My 
father used a staiF sometimes wdien strollinsf around 
his farm, but never anywhere else. I have a sturdy 
hickory standing in the corner which I use occa- 
sionally. There are a number of families, members 
of my charge and congregation, whom I visit regu- 
larly at their homes. E"ow, be it known, the law 
does not allow me to carry fire-arms or a loaded stick; 
the law does not require a man to put a sign over 
his gate, "There are wild beasts here!" Further- 
more, if I attempt to visit these families without 
a heavy stick, my jugular will be in danger. No 
Christian man keeps a tiger turned loose in his 
yard — that would not be lawful — but he is permitted 



182 PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 

to keep a wild beast, called a hull-dog^ that is even 
more ferocious than a tiger. I have fought with 
one of these beasts three times in the last tw^o years; 
my good stick has at last subdued him. So there 
it is! The perils of pastoral visiting are such that 
a stafi* must be used sometimes. Youno^ and timid 
as I am, I have fought wdth more beasts than Paul 
did at Ephesus. We propose a compromise with 
the Doctor. Those switches that are called canes 
we wdll unitedly oppose; but a good, healthy hick- 
ory, incased in its native bark, that laughs w^hen a 
beast cometh, Ave will recognize its presence and 
utility. I love a good dog-stick — smooth it down 
with my hand, chuckle to myself, How a grinning 
bull-dog would be embarrassed in its presence! I 
am obliged to the Doctor for opening with his cane 
my throttle-valve against the dog. As a contributor 
I should have treated him with more deference, but 
I could not repress my inclination to condemn the 
presence of wild beasts in the yards of Christian 
gentlemen. Dr. Kelley says, "I am more afraid of 
a dog than of the devil." My comment on this is 
that I had rather fight the devil than a dog. 

In the matter of dress I wnll add that my father, 
when I was a child, wore the clerical w^hite neck- 
tie, but for thirty years before his death he donned 
onl}^ the black. I can divine his reason for the 
change: he wanted to approach socially near to a 
class of men from wdiom clerical uniform would cut 
him off to some extent. I express my own taste 
and feelings when I say that my aversion to a white 
cravat on a minister is about as strong. as Dr. Han- 



rHILANTimOPY AND OTHER jVIATTERS. 183 

uer's antipathy to a cane. For fear of oifending 
some parties, whom I love and respect, I will not 
ventilate my reasons. Passing the laymen by, and 
the clergy of other Churches, and the old Methodist 
preachers, I would not recommend the colorless tie 
to a young circuit-rider, for the reason that they are 
so very unhandy, and then they give a young min- 
ister an innocent, soft appearance. I think it better 
to have more of the man and less of the preacher 
outside. [The editor will not be held responsible for 
these observations.] 

Dr. Hanner continues: "Take him altogether, he 
mixed in himself the strong elements of manhood 
with the gentle sweetness of womanhood. Great 
and good! I never tried to make him my friend; 
did not follow him nor fawn upon him; never did 
any thing for him worth mentioning, nor did he 
much for me, yet he w^as my friend; I loved him, 
and love his memory still. Nothing but his memory 
can ever Jill for me the void which his death has 
made in the Conference, the Church, and the social 
circle." 

We have a very pleasant communication from the 
Kev. Felix I{. Hill, formerly of the Tennessee, but 
now of the Alabama, Conference. Mr. Hill, im- 
pressed with Dr. Green's love for the preachers, 
writes : 

"I have sometimes heard it said of Dr. Green, 
as is alleged of most wealthy men, that he was 
not so liberal with his means as he might liave 
been. I suppose, though, that no one who knew 
hira well ever brought such a charge against him. 



184 PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 

While many of his charities are known publicly, he 
did much in a quiet way that none knew but those 
whom he benefited. In giving he acted upon the 
principle of not letting the left-hand know what 
the right-hand doeth. I gratefully remember an in- 
cident of this kind connected with myself. 

''For two years he was my Presiding Elder. The 
Church being weak, the pastor's salary was quite 
moderate. At the meeting of each Quarterly Con- 
ference of both years Dr. Green insisted upon being 
paid the amount due him, but at the close of each 
year he privately handed me a check for the whole 
amount that he had received: and though I objected 
to taking it, he insisted upon my doing so, with the 
posiiioe injunction that I should say nothing about it. 
I doubt not other members of the Tennessee Con- 
ference can give a similar experience. 

"Dr. Green not only had a large brain, but a big 
heart, full of generosity and true charity. He was 
a great, grand man, independent of the criticisms of 
others, yet always striving earnestly to do his whole 
duty to God and his fellow-creatures." 

Here is a letter to the point from the Rev. Will- 
iam Doss, of the Tennessee Conference, from which 
we extract: "Dr. Green was a philanthropist. He 
was well known in the Conference cabinet for a 
large portion of his life. Here he was the guiding- 
star; and in no department of the Church are his 
wise counsels more missed. Whenever a brother 
was likely to be oppressed, he was sure to find a 
friend in Dr. Green. If an old man was likely to 
be shoved ofi:', he was the last one to get weary in 



PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 185 

hunting him a place. Of this the following inci- 
dent is strikingly illustrative: 

''Once, while representing a District, an old 
man, who had been in my charge the previous year, 
although a good man, on account of some pecul- 
iarities, had become unacceptable. I informed the 
Bishop that I could find no work in my District 
with which the old preacher could be safely in- 
trusted. This announcement aroused Dr. Green, 
and he at once commenced a diligent search all over 
the Conference for a place. At every meeting of 
the cabinet the search was continued; he would in- 
quire of this brother and that. Long before the 
scene ended I felt reproved that I had not made 
greater efforts to find my man a place. Finally to- 
ward the close of the session, finding a place no- 
where else for the old veteran, he took him on a 
good circuit in his own District. That year the old 
man fell at his post." 

To the eye of a stranger, during the session of the 
Conference, my father may have seemed a log-roller, 
or an electioneerer. It was not strange to find him 
aside, button-holed by an ambitious young itinerant, 
or a feeble, care-worn veteran, relating the same old 
story, and beseeching his influence with the appoint- 
ing power. 

Dr. D. C. Xelley says: "Dr. Green's knowledge 
of men was large, for he had mingled with them in 
all their phases, and had not only observed widely, 
but thought deeply. He used his knowledge not 
deceitfully, but lovingly, to accomplish good, both 
for them and the Church. His friendships were of 



186 PIIILANTimOPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 

the strongest cast. No man who ever called A. L. 
P. Green friend had a right to say, afterward, ' I am 
without a friend.' The most uncultured preacher- 
boy^ entering with timid and awkward tread upon 
the arena of his life-work, found in him not only a 
wise counselor, but a kind-hearted and sympathetic 
friend, who when he had once taken hold of him 
never let him go. Again and again have we seen 
him on the Conference-floor performing the loving 
duty of lightening the heart of the old preacher of 
the sorrow of yielding the burdens of active duty 
and going to the roll of the superannuated, saying: 
'It is not because you are less necessary to us that 
we thus refuse to send you to the front, where the 
affray is the hottest, but because of the value of 
your experience we must keep you where we can 
preserve your wisdom longest to guide us. We 
are not turning you out, as the old horse, to graze 
on the commons, but only giving you the freedom 
of all our homes. When you come, the warmest 
places at our hearth-stones, and the choicest places 
in our hearts, you will find to be yours.' 

"There is an involuntary heart-ache as the ques- 
tions come up, 'Who is to encourage the young 
men with a smile? who to divide the sorrows of the 
old, now that he is gone?' 

"Perhaps to the casual observer his most marked 
excellence was contained in the beatitude, 'Blessed 
are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the 
children of God.' Many a time, in the perturbation 
of debate in Church-convocations, have we known a 
few sentences from him to allay excitement, and 



PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 187 

brins: brethren to see each other in the liffht of 
kindness. This did not arise, as in many cases, 
from a negative or emotionless nature, bnt from the 
great size of his heart and width of his brain. While 
others only saw one side of a question, and w^ere 
bitter in their denunciations of what was to them 
utter falsehood, he with unrivaled calmness looked 
quietly at all its phases and possible developments; 
saw the truths of both sides, and brought antago- 
nists tofi^ether in his broader lis^ht. 

^'He possessed, in an eminent degree, that rare 
power of never losing sight of either principles or 
men. You have known many men, gifted with the 
power to win large success, who so adhered to prin- 
ciple that in the determined force of their progress 
they were likely to trample down friend or foe, 
crushing the heart-strings of those very friends by 
the force of their advance. Other strong men you 
have known whose devotion to friends was such as 
to make their advance w^avering and their achieve- 
ments doubtful. Dr. Green never lost sis^ht of a 
principle, nor wavered when he deemed it important 
to press it to its farthest result; yet in doing so the 
claims of the hearts of his friends were held in 
sacred memory." 

Dr. Green was interested in all the little affairs of 
the young people. There was no unapproachable 
dignity or grandeur about him. The boys talked 
to him about just any thing. We find him in 1873, 
when very much afflicted in body, corresponding 
with (Rev.) W. K. Peebles, who was then preparing 
for the ministry, on the momentous (?) question as 



188 PHILANTHROPY AND OTHER MATTERS. 

to whether he should study Hebrew or not. The 
good advice was that he should go on and get his 
diploma, and then study Hebrew. 

Generous as brave, 
Affection, kindness, the sweet offices 
Of love and duty, were to him as needful 
As his daily bread. 




38. 
The Angler and Angling. 

JY father, as I have said before, was asso- 
ciated in early life with the Creek and 
Cherokee Indians, and, no doubt, while 
with them imbibed his love for the woods 
and streams. He was first a hunter, and then a 
fisherman. He w^as a crack shot with the old Ken- 
tucky rifie, but would never recognize any thing in 
the way of game short of a deer or wild-turkey. 
So, as the country became settled, and the game of 
the nobler sort very scarce, the rifle was laid aside 
for the more apostolic and gentle sport of fishing. 
Indeed, he had very little respect for a shot-gun, 
and complained of its oftensive noise, being in strik- 
ing contrast with the musical ring of a rifle; to him 
the former was heavy, sober prose — the latter w^as 
exhilarating, euphonious poetry. 

Considering his extreme fondness for fishing, he 
indulged but little— only now and then, when the 
calls of the Church would permit. No fishing-trip 
ever contravened a religious or clerical duty. When 
on his angling excursions he was always ready and 
eager to catch men on the Sabbath-day. Mr. Irby 
Morgan, of Edgefield, a devoted friend, occasionally 

(189) 



190 THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 

twitted him with the playful remark, ''Dr. Green, 
3^ou would have been made a Bishop long ago, but 
you are too rich and too fond of fishing." My 
opinion may be worth nothing in this matter; but I 
think my fiather, by his social influence, as far as it 
extended, elevated the angler and angling. For the 
last forty years the amateur fishermen of ITashville 
and vicinity have been the most high-toned, honor- 
able gentlemen. 

Dr. Green angled for game-fish only. His tackle 
was of the very best quality — a trim, lithe rod, a 
Meek-reel, a clean, silk-plat line, an improved min- 
now-bucket, and a basket. He was successful, not 
because he was patient — for patience never catches 
fish — but because he knew the habits of fish, knew 
w^here to find them, knew where to throw his line, 
and was energetic. He did not set out his poles, 
and then placidly wait for a bite, refreshing himself 
with a newspaper and a cigar for four or five hours. 
He knew that a live minnow, thrown into deep 
w\ater, is a wily fellow, and takes shelter under the 
nearest rock or leaf at the bottom ; and hence, every 
fifteen or twenty minutes. Dr. Green was manipu- 
lating his reel, or moving his pole just a little, to 
expose the bait. He knew how to fish; he was at- 
tentive, and spared no physical exertion; therefore, 
he caught fish. 

For the last fifteen or twenty years of his life his 
field-sport was almost confined to an annual excur- 
sion of two weeks in November. For a number of 
years 'a small, select party went on these trips, which 
su£:2:ested at last the formal ors^anization of tlie 



THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 191 

^'jN'ashville and Edgefield Angling- Club," composed 
of gentlemen who, in the hazy month when the year 
is old and the woods are gold, hied away and pitched 
their tents by the deep-blue stream. Each laid his 
head on a pillow of leaves that were brown and red, 
and they awoke to the music a fisherman loves the 
best — the dick of the reel. 

Mr. C. E. Hillman, of i^ashville, the last secretary 
of the Club, has kindly tendered for my inspection 
the "Eecord Book." There may have been a tear 
in his eye when he handed me the book, sa3'ing, 
^'Mr. Green, it makes me sad to open that book; I 
prize it very highly; do not let any one read it, and 
take good care of it." 

The first meeting of the Club was held June 21, 
1856. The "Constitution and By-law^s," composed 
by Mr. Mcholas Hobson, is a neat, elaborate docu- 
ment of its kind. Among other pertinent rules, the 
use of strong drink and indelicate language is for- 
bidden while on their excursions. The signers of 
this Constitution are Messrs. N. Ilobson, A. L. P. 
Green, Jesse Thomas, Alexander Eall, John W. 
Terrass, Jo. G. Brown, C. E. Hillman, K. C. Mc- 
Xairy, John P. Ford, G. P. Smith, and William B. 
Ewine:. Seven of these have laid down the rod and 
reel, and passed over the river. I find beautiful 
tributes to the memories of three brother-anglers — 
Mr. Jo. G. Brown, Dr. John P. Ford, and Mr. Al- 
exander Fall. Since the death of Messrs. Green, 
Hobson, McISTairy, and Ewing, no meeting has been 
held. A sad answer is returned to the good people 
on Buflalo when they inquire, "Why does not the 



192 THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 

Club come down? " The names of Messrs. Anthony 
W. Johnson and William Petvvay appear as honor- 
ary members, in 1858. The Club never had but one 
president during its existence — Nicholas Hobson. 
R. C. McltTairy was the first, Alexander Fall the 
second, and Charles E. Hillman the last secretary. 
Dr. John P. Ford was the first, and Dr. G. P. Smith 
the last surgeon. Mr. Jesse Thomas was the treas- 
urer, and had no successor. So active was he in the 
discharge of his duties that the Club compliments 
him with a vote of thanks. 

In 1857 the Club presented a memorial to the 
Legislature of Tennessee, begging the protection of 
game in the State. This memorial was a pamphlet 
prepared w^ith a great deal of care and study by Dr. 
Green. 

In 1865 the Club meet, and first kneel in prayer, 
led by the chaplain. Dr. Green, who returns thanks 
to God for the preservation of their lives during the 
eventful and trying years of the war. 

Mr. C. E. Hillman has furnished me with the fol- 
lowing incident from his memories of the delectable 
excursions of the Club. Mr. Hillman does not fall 
down and worship a fine trout; but when the poles 
and the minnow-bucket are placed in the wagon, 
there is a w^onderful elasticity in his step and a 
strange fire in his eye. He says: 

'' We had pitched our tents on Bufi'alo Creek. 
There w^as a full attendance of the Club. Uncle 
'Nick (Mr. Nicholas Hobson) and Mr. Mcl^airy had 
been drawling the net, some months before, in Turn- 
bull Creek, in quest of bait. Alexander Fall and I 



THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 193 

were carrying the buckets. Uncle ^N^ick, spying a 
large, four-pound trout in a small pocket just ahead, 
cried, 'Hillman, come take the staff, and help catch 
him ! ' Knowing that it was against the rule to take 
a large fish in a net, I hesitated; but. Uncle Kick 
being president, I reluctantly obeyed. The fish was 
caught, and the right of discovery gave him to 
Uncle Nick. 

"Night came; the supper was over; the light of 
the camp-fire fell on the faces of the Club as they 
sat in silence on their stools. The secretary, note- 
book in hand, was ready to receive the reports of 
the day's sport — the number of fish, the kind of 
fish, the size, and how taken; also, a general report 
of excursions daring the spring and summer. Uncle 
Nick came last; his reports condemned him; he had 
violated the law, and must be tried. Col. Anthonv 
W. Johnson was the judge -advocate; Dr. Green 
and Dr. Ford were the prosecuting attorneys; Mc- 
Nairy, Terrass, and I were the witnesses. Dr. Green 
made the opening speech, in which he stated 'the 
enormity of the oftense, aggravated by the offender 
being the president of the Club.' Dr. Ford, mild 
and gentle as a woman, followed. He was very ' sad 
that the president of the Club, and an old man, had 
set such an example before the younger members.' 
The sentence of the judge was that Dr. Ford, ac- 
cording to the enormity of the oftense, should ad- 
minister a reprimand. The Doctor advanced, and 
drew from his pocket a beautiful silver reel, with 
the date and name engraved upon it, and, in a few 
well-chosen ro.u\i\r]<.^,rrprirnrni{lcrI the president with 
9 



194 THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 

it in the name of the Chib. Uncle Nick received 
the reel, while the tears streamed down his face; 
and I am candid in'^a»ffl5^min^tlmir tieve]^ saw as 
pretty a scene as that in my life. '' "'' 

"We also had a great deal of merriment in the 
trial of Dr. Green. The charge was that a large 
channel-cat that belonged to another member of the 
Club had been found among" his fish. 

"Dick, the negro servant of Uncle Nick, was 
tried for fishing on Sunday. The sentence was that 
he should fish for twenty-four hours in a tub of 
water, Avith a cotton line and a pin -hook." My 
father states that the punishment in this case did 
not cure Dick; that he was tried a^^alii^r the same 
ofifense, and the sentence was that he should go to 
an old mill on the river, said to be haunted, and stay 
from ten o'clock till daylight. Dick answered, 
when he heard the sentence, "You may kill me 
right now; I 'm not going to (Jat mill!" 

These excursions Avere not only a pleasure to 
those who went, but to thosCxrkA remained at 
home. Many were the side-splitting jokes that 
went round, and the fish-stories that gladdened the 
whole year that followed. I was never on one of 
these expeditions, for the very best of reasons to a 
modest boy — I was never invited — but I enjoyed 
with the keenest zest the fireside memories. Poor 
Dick! the war carried away his golden age. While 
a slave every wish was gratified, and he knew noth- 
ing but kindness from the hands of his old master. 
I saw him the last time, ragged and alone, sitting on 
the bank of the Cumberland, with his rod and line. 



THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 195 

The great conflict was going on, but Dick — true to 
his old love, oblivious of the rush of armies and the 
crash of fortunes — was placidly waiting for a bite. 
Dick has gone with the other fishermen; he has 
passed over the river. 

Mr. M. A. McClaugherty, one of my father's most 
intimate fishing-chums, writes: 

"Perhaps no man who has devoted a long life to 
the Church was so intimately know^n by all classes 
of people as Dr. Green; saint and sinner kuQw him 
alike. 

"Dr. Green's reputation as a fisherman was almost 
w^orld-wide. His annual fishing excursion became 
a part of his life. The year was not complete until 
the camp-fires had been burned. 

"It has been the high privilege of the writer to 
spend weeks and months with Dr. Green around the 
camp-fire. There alone could he be known in his 
native simplicity and greatness — 

Alike for courts, and camps, and senates fit. 

"Dr. Green, Mr. Seth Green, of ]N'ew York — now 
Fish Commissioner of that State — and a few other 
friends, all expert anglers, were enjoying a social 
dinner-party on the Eastern coast, when a commit- 
tee of three was appointed to propose a query — a 
fine silver fishing -reel to be awarded the party 
giving the most appropriate answer. The query 
propounded was, 'Which is the better side of the 
stream for fishing?' Dr. Green answered, 'That 
side on which the shadow of the fisherman is cast 
from the water.' The prize was awarded to Dr. 
Green, and the writer is now in possession of the 



196 THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 

identical reel, having been the happy recipient of 
the same as a present from the Doctor, a short time 
before his death." 

I have a letter from my father, written after his 
return from the fishing-trip of 1868. He writes: 

"My annual fishing-trip — well, it is over! The 
company consisted of W. K. Elliston, John Elliston, 
Mr. Porter, Mr. McClaugherty, Brother Warren, 
Mr. Seth Settle, and a negro by the name of Reuben, 
who went along in the capacity of cook. William 
and John Elliston carried guns; the rest of us car- 
ried fishing-tackle. We went on the cars to Wav- 
erly, and then took a wagon twelve miles to what is 
called the Whirl. We learned that Irby Morgan 
had been camping at the Lake for some weeks. We 
found Bufialo as clear as glass, and, as a matter of 
course, the chance was bad for angling, though we 
caught a goodly number of fish — mainly caught by 
Brother Warren and I, as we had more experience 
in fishing in clear water. We lived in good state, 
had a fine cook, tent, and appetites, and enjoyed our- 
selves finely. We had fish, squirrels, birds, ham, 
cofiTee, and the like. We brought home some good 
fish, but not as many as usual." 

Dr. E. T. Bainbridge writes: "I have now a fish- 
ing-rod — a present from Dr. Green — that I prize 
more highly than almost any article I possess, not 
for its intrinsic value, but in memory of the exalted 
estimation in which I held the generous donor. On 
one occasion I met Dr. Green on the banks of a 
stream (Sycamore Creek). A rather dissolute, prof- 
ligate character conceived a strong desire to possess 



THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 197 

an article of his beautiful tackle. On discovering 
the character of the person, he made an earnest 
though simple appeal, so admirably adapted to the 
occasion that the poor, abandoned creature's better 
feelings were aroused. He gave him the coveted ar- 
ticle, asking kindly, in remuneration, that he would 
'desist from pursuing farther his disastrous course, 
and would attend the neighborhood Sabbath-school,' 
which he did afterward." 

We extract from a letter of Dr. J. G. Wilson. He 
writes: "IsTot a great while after I received license 
to preach I went with Dr. Green, in his bugg}^, to 
his quarterly-meeting at ITeely's Chapel, in Ruther- 
ford county, Tennessee. I greatly eujoyed the trip, 
from the sage, humorous, and trite remarks upon 
men aud things, which were interspersed among 
more sober counsels about the work of a preacher, 
which he was always ready, in a quiet, fatherly way, 
to impart to a younger brother. There was in at- 
tendance at this meeting an old lay Brother B., from 
another circuit, who, while not a miser, was very 
fond of making money. He was complaining to Dr. 
Green that he was beginning to feel the iniirmities 
of age creeping upon him. 'I tell you what you 
ought to do, Brother B.,' said the Doctor, 'and it 
will help to keep you fresh and young. There are 
plenty of fine trout in the creek near your home; 
you ought to get you some tackle, and spend a few 
hours occasionally along the creek catching them. 
It would tend to divert your mind and keep you 
from growing old too fast.' The good brother, who 
knew tbe Doctor's fondness for the sport, said, 



198 THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 

'Well, I do think of it sometimes; but if I should 
be going to the creek with a k)t of fishing-poles on 
my shoulder, and should meet one of my neighbors 
going about his business, or looking after his farm, 
I 'd feel lazy and mean.' 'Yes,' was the reply, 'you 
can't go down to the creek in search of innocent 
sport and freshness of feeling; but, I^ll he bounds if 
anybody should tell you that there was at the bot- 
tom of one of those deep holes a silver bit^ you'd be 
found flat on your belly, on a puncheon, floating 
down and grabbing for it.' At night we all three 
occupied the same room — the Doctor and I in one 
bed, and Brother B. in the other. A conversation 
was kept up for some time, in the course of which 
the brother told how some man who owed him seven 
hundred dollars had run off down to Mississippi, 
and how he had followed him up and got the money. 
The conversation was then turned to the subject of 
religion, and the brother finally said that as he got 
older the greatest desire of his heart was to enjoy 
more of the life and power of religion. 'Lord help 
you, Brother B.!' said the Doctor. 'Suppose I 
should tell you that down in Georgia or Alabama 
there was a man who could put you in the way to 
get more of the life and pov/er of religion, do you 
think that you would follow him up as you did that 
man for the seven hundred dollars?' That closed 
the conversation." 

Bishop McTyeire has caught more men and tied 
them out than he has fishes, but we are glad to hear 
him, even in this connection. He says: "Dr. Green 
knew how to work, and also how to rest. He habit- 



THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 199 

ually devoted a week or ten days to an annual lish- 
ing-excursion, camping out. I dare say he was as 
well acquainted with the nature and habits of fish, 
and the best w^ay of catching them, as Simon Peter 
himself. I w^as holding a District Conference in the 
Valley of the Tennessee, near the mouth of Duck 
River. Said one, ' We have good preaching all the 
year round in Big Bottom; but once a year we have 
fine times, when Dr. Green comes a-fishing.' My 
host said, ' The horse you are on is the one the Doc- 
tor rides; for we send into the swamp to fetch him 
out to meeting. His boat is on Clear Lake to-day, 
tied to the shore J " 

Dr. Summers may have caught a few fish by ac- 
cident. We know that he is fond of red-snapper. 
He says: "Dr. Green was fond of fishing; could 
beat Izaak Walton in the gentle sport; had fished 
in most of the principal waters east of the Rocky 
Mountains; has left an unfinished work on fishing, 
which we hoped to edit for him. His fishing-excur- 
sions were made tributary to his benevolent efib rts 
to benefit those w^ith whom he came in contact, and 
over whom he wielded a weird influence; for he was 
a fisher of men as well as of fish, and thousands 
w^ere caught by him in the gospel net." 

He finds time during the General Conference to 
write about fishing. He says: "You and Frank 
had bad luck fishing, from the account you give of 
the matter. Well, it has been a long time since I 
was fishing. I have almost forgotten how it feels. 
I think I may have another chance some time." 

Well, it is time we were reeling in the lines and 



200 THE ANGLER AND ANGLING. 

taking up the poles. We will call the roll of the 
Club. Jesse Thomas answers "Present!"' He fills 
his pipe with the best tobacco, and grows animated 
as he relates the charming history of the Club. He 
goes on a short angling-tour once a year, v;ith his 
sons James and Litton. Messrs. Hillman, Terrass, 
and Petway renew their youth occasionally on the 
banks of some neighboring streinii. Col. Anthony 
W. Johnson is not a haughty, proud-looking man 
as he walks through the streets of the city; but 
when he gets into that fishing-wagon, and drives 
through Edgefield, no grander or more imperious- 
looking man can be found than he. 

My father had some apprentices — Messrs. Fur- 
man, Akers, McClaugherty, Settle, and Fite — who 
are promising anglers. But the lines and poles are 
in, and the night has come down. God bless the old 
Club! 

Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead, 
The patient fisher takes his silent stand, 
Intent, his an^le trembling in his hand. 




39. 
Literary — What the Brethren Say. 

|R. GREEN'S education did not entitle him 
to an honorable place among the gens cle 
lettres, and yet it may be lawful to speak 
of him as a literary man, since he read, 
wrote, preached, and delivered orations. There 
were features attachinsr to his literary character of 
which his most intimate friends were not aware. 
Most men have an idea that to study to profit they 
must have pen, ink, paper, table, and a library, and 
be alone. Dr. Green could study anywhere, with 
any surroundings, and indeed was a perpetual stu- 
dent; hence, he was always ready. His sermons, 
for the most part, were made of what he saw and 
heard by the way. His published articles were the 
productions of experience, natural wisdom, and 
genius. He read books, the very best books, but 
they w^ere subordinated and assimilated. What he 
learned by observation was first, what he read was 
second. He admired the landscape painting, but 
not more than the original. His images were bor- 
rowed from the works of the Master, not the imita- 
tions of the copyist. 

He studied his sermons more than one would sup- 
9^^ (201) 



202 LITERARY — WHAT THE BRETHREN SAY. 

pose. He told me that he general!}' had a sermon 
in his mind twenty-four hours before preaching. 
On the street, in the social circle, on the cars, he 
could prepare a discourse, without any seeming ab- 
straction of mind. His published articles were re- 
w^ritten, if time would allow, the second time. He 
prepared three manuscripts of his "Alpine Hunter." 

Bishop Paine wu'ites: "Dr. Green read much dur- 
ing the first fifteen years of his ministry, especially 
standard works in theology and in biblical and Eng- 
lish literature. Indeed, he always kept his mind 
lubricated with good and useful reading. He trav- 
eled a good deal, mingled with the better classes of 
society, was a shrewd observer of men and things, 
had a vast amount of common sense, yet combin- 
ing with the practical the faculty of fancy in a high 
degree. The two factors which gave individuality 
and prominence to his intellectual character were 
thoughtfulness and decisiveness: these elements are 
essential in forming a wise man and a great leader; 
and such he was." 

Bishop McTyeire says, " He was no mean writer, 
and contributed much to the Church -press. With 
the advantage of education on his side he could 
have produced papers equal to Longstreet or Chris- 
topher ^orth, in descriptive power, in humor, in 
originality and moral raciness. His school and his 
school-masters ^vere circumstances and contempo- 
rary men. He read Clarke's Commentary through, 
volume by volume, soon after it was republished in 
this country. I never heard him use an incident or 
illustration taken out of ancient or modern history. 



LITERARY WHAT THE BRETHREN SAY. 203 

His food for thought and material for illustration 
were furnished by observation and taken out of 
common life. Without losing his identity he ab- 
sorbed much knowledge from the atmosphere he 
was in." 

Dr. J. W. Hanner says, ''I was reading Shakes- 
peare when Dr. Green found me in my Edgefield 
study. He spoke of the book in a way that aston- 
ished me. He did not seem to appreciate it — won- 
der if he had read it? We agreed that 'Paradise 
Lost ' was overrated by literary folks. According to 
our thought, Milton is great on angels, devils, rivers, 
and serpents; but we heard a preacher surpass him 
on this line of things. But Shakespeare, with his 
intrinsic knowledge of human nature — not to like 
Shakespeare I The fact is. Dr. Green seemed to 
know what ought to be in books before reading 
them. The more books one reads the more one 
thinks him half right. He was not bookish in his 
science, mechanics, or in his grammar." 

Dr. Hanner springs the inquiry as to whether Dr. 
Green ever read Shakespeare. I never heard him 
say in so many words that he had, and have only 
circumstantial evidence bearing on the question. I 
remember an old copy of Shakespeare in my father's 
library, which had on one of the fly-leaves his auto- 
graph. The book was well thumbed, and supple in 
the back, and bore evidences of familiar treatment. 
Dr. Green did not admire Shakespeare. Why? 
Not because of its want of wisdom, but because of 
its numerous indelicate passages. Perhaps if he 
had read it more, and at a time of life when his 



204 LITERARY — WHAT THE BRETHREN SAY. 

piety was not so stern, his prejudices would have 
been overcome by the charming naturalness of the 
book. For the reason that I have stated, a copy of 
Byron never found its way into my father's library. 

Dr. Green read books, but was very careful not to 
bore kind-hearted people with a synopsis of them. 
He had not the vanity of some men in this partic- 
ular. He did not pride himself on the bare reading 
of any book, and yet, when I was only fifteen years 
of age, he hired me to read certain books in his li- 
brary, which I did, but felt compensated without 
the premium. 

The Rev. William Witcher has furnished us the 
following: " His literary life was like his physical — 
well-grown. His studies seem to have embraced 
the whole circle of human knowleds^e. The most 
intricate subtilties of philosophy and the deeper 
mysteries of theological learning were familiar to 
him. He was a considerable poet, but did not often 
turn his genius loose in that direction." 

Whether Mr. Witcher's estimate be literally true 
or not does not affect the result. He thought so, 
and the matter stands thus: If it is just all that a 
man of great learning can do to impress the multi- 
tude with his learning, how much greater is the man 
who can do this without learning ? 

Dr. E. A. Young, who has a high regard for 
literature, says: ''Dr. Green was not pedantic. He 
made no ado about books. It is said he was never 
known to quote from a book or an author hy name 
in his life. I have seen him sit in my ofiice for two 
hours before preaching, pulling down commentaries 



LITERARY — WHAT THE BRETHREN SAY. 205 

and examining the text. E"ow, thought I, we shall 
hear what Wesley, or Coke, or Clarke, or Benson 
has said; but he only gave the results of study. 
For this reason some of his brethren thought that 
he did not have many books, or having them, he 
did not read them. A few weeks spent at 'Green- 
land' always corrected this mistake. He was well 
acquainted with Christian theology as taught by^ 
Arminius, Wesley, Fletcher, and liichard Watson. 
Canon law and Church government were favorite 
studies. He was fond of metaphysics — read Ed- 
wards, Bledsoe, and Whedon. He would employ 
his rest-days through many weeks studying Com- 
modore Maury's works on Physical Geography, 
and Darwin's 'Origin of Species,' and 'Descent of 
Man;' but he was not a Darwinian. He read all 
the best English poets and modern British essayists. 
He took travels and voyages in the place of novels 
and romances. I^early all our Church-periodicals 
came to his house. I state these facts in justice to 
the character of Dr. Green, and because I know 
them to be true. Scarcely any country-home in this 
land was better supplied with books than 'Green- 
land.'" 

Dr. Summers was my father's literary Mentor. 
He says: "Dr. Green courted the Muses, though he 
found them somewhat coy. But his thoughts were 
wont to run in a rhythmic form, and though he did 
not concern himself much with the laws of versifi- , 
cation, yet we have sometimes vend a whole page 
of his blank verse, which he would bring to us for 
correction, without detecting a single metrical error. 



206 LITERARY — WHAT THE BRETHREN SAY. 

He wrote much for our periodicals. Some of his 
papers, especially those on the Aborigines of our 
country, reminiscences of old times, articles on 
Church aftairs, etc., are worthy of preservation in 
book form. He was rich in anecdote, and no one 
could tell a story better than Dr. Green." 

This fellow 's of exceeding honesty, 

And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, 

Of human things. 




40. 
The Commander. 

[]R. GREE^ was never at any time thrown 
off his balance. Circumstances of pleas- 
ure or pain never brought rhapsodies or 
despair. His noble spirit, casemated with 
love and trust, was proof against the invaders, lire, 
flood, and pestilence. On the subject of self-pos- 
session, which was one of my father's prominent 
traits, a number of friends come to my relief. First, 
we insert a communication from Dr. J. B. Walker, 
who writes both in love and in truth. He says: 

*'One of the most marked of Dr. Green's charac- 
teristics was calmness and self-possession. This was 
by no means the product of stoicism; for he was 
not only susceptible of profound emotion, but act- 
ually in hearty sympathy with all that interested 
his fellow-men. We have seen him exhibit this 
self-control in matters great and small, not only 
when forewarned, and therefore forearmed, but 
under sudden surprise, showing that it was not an 
assumed but an habitual discipline of mind. I re- 
member once dining with the Doctor and several 
ministers, at the house of Mr. C, of Tennessee. 
There was quite a company, and animated and 

(207) 



208 THE COMMANDER. 

cheerful conversation going forward, in which, ac- 
cording to his wont, he was bearing an interesting 
part. I remember that he was neatly dressed in 
men's summer black suit. A servant-girl, who was 
handing around the table a large bowl of milk, 
through awkwardness or carelessness, stumbled and 
spilt the contents of the bowl on the shoulder and 
around the skirts of the Doctor's coat. Most men 
would have suddenly drawn to one side, sprang up, 
or said something to express their displeasure; not 
so the Doctor. He carried up the fork to his mouth, 
and kept up the smooth stream of his talk without 
a visible ripple in his words or in his face. This 
was most polite, and considerate of the poor, fright- 
ened servant, and of the embarrassment of the la- 
dies of the family, who were naturally distressed at 
the awkward occurrence. 

'' We have heard him, on great occasions, address- 
ing vast audiences, when he deeply felt the dread re- 
sponsibility of the hour; but he stood as straight 
and as firm as a shaft of marble, and, without the 
shiver of a nerve or the tremor of a tone, he would 
calmly proceed to the profoundest and nicest analy- 
sis of human character, and lay down the grand 
principles on wdiich eternal destiny hinged. At 
such times he suggested the idea of some great sur- 
geon performing a most difficult operation, cutting 
within a hair's-breadth of some vital organ, but so 
perfect a master of his art that he cut with the calm- 
ness of self-possession. 

"In the supreme congress of the Church, in the 
greatest emergencies of the times that passed over 



THE COMMANDER. 209 

him, his self-possession was equal to the occasion, 
and he was able to combine the most oracular wis- 
dom with the most persuasive affability of manner. 
This admirable mental trait gave him great power, 
not only in possessing him of his utmost resources, 
not only in securing the best expression of his con- 
victions, but in the conHdence which it inspired in 
others in the soundness and accuracy of his posi- 
tions. If he had been commander of a vessel in a 
storm, or the general of an army in battle, this ele- 
ment of mental constitution would have come out 
in conspicuous relief, and would have won him 
fame." 

On this point Dr. Young says: "Nothing seemed 
to disturb liim. His calm courage was equal to his 
Christian patience. If I were an artist I could 
paint with equal ease Dr. Green instructing a com- 
pany of stupid backwoods sinners, or delivering an 
argument against the opinions of an Irish general 
assembly. Concerning non-essentials he was as pli- 
ant as a willow-wand; on great principles he stood 
firm as a rock." 

We make an easy and natural transfer from the 
calm and the seJf-possessed to Dr. Green as a com- 
mander, a cabinet-ofiicer, a camp-meeting conductor, 
and a manager of individuals. We quote from the 
admirable letter of Dr. Walker again : 

" It has been said that some men were born to 
command. This inherent ruling power in some 
consists in a power to inspire fear, to awe men into 
obedience; in others, by a deeper and subtler cun- 
ning than average men possess; in others, by hold- 



210 THE COMMANDER. 

ing out to inferiors the hope of advantage by obe- 
dience. These are not the highest elements of the 
ruling art. The model ruler not only inspires respect 
for wisdom and integrity — he not only awes by a 
certain force df will, but, by gentle, affable, and con- 
ciliatory manners, he wins affection and secures 
obedience in response to love. Dr. Green, along 
with great force and persistence of will, possessed 
the winning way; and the reins of power in his 
hands seemed silken, and never chafed nor irritated 
those over whom they were held. 

" It was interesting to see and hear, at a great 
camp-meting, how softly and successfully he man- 
aged the young preachers, placing the most efficient 
workers in the altar and the prayer-meeting. As 
the hours of the night would wear away, and some 
would be fagging with weariness and hoarseness, 
and inclined to get about the camp-fires or tables 
to refresh and talk over the incidents of the work at 
the altar, without telling them to retire, the Doctor 
would say, 'Brethren, were you thinking of calling 
by the altar before you go to bed, to see how things 
are getting on?' 'O yes! certainly they were go- 
ing.' He w^ould say he thought it would be well, 
but not to work too long, as he thought they needed 
rest. He got the work done; but those wdio did it 
thought it purely spontaneous, and on their own 
motions. How wise was this, and how pleasant to 
those under authority! — like the great natural proc- 
esses, where we witness results of tremendous power, 
without noise or friction. 

"Few men of our acquaintance more generally 



THE COMMANDER. 211 

had their way, carried their points, or were more 
successful, and none ever did so with less offense. It 
is a great pleasure w^hen a leader can secure a good- 
humored acquiescence in his plans; it ends the op- 
position and secures a permanent victory." 

Perhaps more than any other living man. Dr. J. 
W. Hanner was associated with my father in the 
Bishop's cabinet. The Doctor furnishes some inter- 
esting memories of the arcanum ecclesiasticum. He 
says : 

"My first meeting in the cabinet with Dr. Green 
was in Huntsville. We went from N'ashville in his 
carriage. Being a new Presiding Elder, representing 
'N'ashville District, he asked whom I thought of as 
a nomination for a certain station difficult to fill — 
too weak for a married man, and ought not to have 
a single man. I told him that I did not like to re- 
veal, lest he might forestall me. ' ^o,' said he, ' I 
will help you.' Then I told him, very frankly, all 
about it. ' Well, that is first-rate,' said he; 'could 
not be better.' 

"Bishop Andrew did not come to Conference, 
but by letter appointed your father to preside; never 
knew a Bishop to do that before or since. One or 
two of the brethren, who desired the place, did not 
seem to like the Bishop's way of doing this thing, 
'II n' imj^orte 'pas' He was also Presiding Elder — 
had poAver to fill his own District according to his 
wish. Judge of my surprise when he proposed to 
put my man down on one of his own circuits. He 
showed the elders how proper it was; no one ob- 
jected but myself. He dipped his pen into the ink, 



212 THE COMMANDER. 

and was about to write him down. 'Don't do that, 
if you please,' said I. 'Why not?' he answered. 
'Because there is a special call for him at another 
jDlace, and no one else will do as well.' 'We can 
find another man for that place.' 'I think not.' 
He made as if he would put him down. 'Stop! do 
you remember our conversation on the way hither?' 
'Yes.' 'Well, then, put him down, if you wish.' 
He looked at me, and passed on to another. When 
my turn came my man went down to the station 
without a word. [It is evident that the intention 
of Dr. Green was to hold the man for Dr. Hanner.] 

" Many years afterward, in a cabinet meeting at 
Lebanon, we discussed men and places some while. 
We both wanted the same man. At length I said, 

'Take him; let me have G .' '^^"0, you cannot 

have him.' 'Give me L .' ^l^o, I want him 

myself.' ' Then give me C .' ' No, he is my 

man, too.' Said I, 'Bishop, how many preachers 
belong to Dr. Green mfee simple? and who are they?' 
Said the Bishop, 'He and you can fix the appoint- 
ments, and one of us must have leave to go, as it is 
getting late. Come, come John, one might as well 
be put in a strait-jacket ! ' There Avas a good Bishop 
[Paine]. He was once a member of the Tennessee 
Conference. Everybody loves him. It was all fun- 
religious fun. The Doctor crossed the room, and 
said, 'Hanner, give me a chaw of tobacco!' I like 
human people." 

Dr. Green was a commander not only of very 
large bodies, but when an opportunity offered ho 
used his skill in reconciling very obscure parties. 



THE COMMANDER. 213 

He not only removed mountains^, but searched out 
small grains of sand that grated and disturbed so- 
cial action. An incident furnished by Mrs. S. F. 
Johnson is aprojoos: "Once while attending a camp- 
meeting where large crowds were fed by the tenters, 
Dr. Green grew weary at the stand, and wound his 
w^ay around to a cook-shed to warm his feet. Find- 
ing the cook in a rather bad humor, he thought to 
change her feelings by conversing with her about 
the good meeting. 'Well, aunty, are we not having 
a good meeting?' 'Ah^ 3Iassa, de white folks is, but 
'taint (loin' me no good; I don't have no chance to 'joy 
it; I's here all de time cooking ocer d is fire!' 'But, 
aunty,' said the Doctor, 'you are helping to carry 
on the meetiug as much as any of us. Some of 
us are here to preach, some to sing, some to pray, 
and some to keep up the tent and feed the multi- 
tude. I could not preach and pray much if I did 
not have somethiug to eat. We all have to eat, and 
if you did not cook for us the rest of us could not 
do our part. You see, aunty, the work has to go 
on in every part, and you are doing your part. You 
can pray for us while you are cooking, and the Lord 
is pleased to make all his servants liappy while per- 
forming their part of the work.' The old aunty 
saw the point, was in a good humor, and from that 
time on enjoyed the meeting." 

My father was jealous of his commission, and 
even when sick at the Hot Springs, as a faithful 
subordinate, was looking after the interests of his 
great Captain. He writes to me from Hot Springs, 
April n, 1874: "I have secured a lot, aud on last 



214 THE COMMANDER. 

Sunday named the matter to the congregation. 
The church will cost some three thousand dollars, 
and I think the amount will soon be raised. The 
preacher in charge here is a young man from Flor- 
ida, a good business man, w^ho loves his w^ork, and 
will accomplish good. I have become helping 
preacher in the Hot Springs Charge, and assistant 
Presiding Elder, as Dr. Andrew Hunter has written 
to me that I must hold certain quarterly-meetings. 
I preach every Sabbath at eleven o'clock, and have 
preached several times at night in the dining-room 
of the hotel." 




41. 
The Geeen Memoeial. 

[HE "Green Memorial" was technically, or 
officially, styled the "Tennessee Confer- 
ence Memorial," for reasons patent to all 
versed in Methodist nsage. When the 
call was made in the General Conference of 1866 
for memorials, this paper was presented by the Ten- 
nessee Conference through its delegation. Those 
acquainted with the jpre-conference history of this 
paper know why it was called the "Green Memo- 
rial." It might very appropriately have been called 
the " Green -McTyeire Memorial," borrowing its 
name from its history, which I propose to furnish 
in brief. 

During the last year of the war between the 
States, Dr. (Bishop) McTyeire and Dr. Green were 
thrown together frequently in Montgomery, Alaba- 
ma, where the former was preacher in charge. The 
Southern Conferences north of the Tennessee River 
had been for several years in a state of collapse, 
owing to the presence of large armies and the 
general demoralization that attends military rule. 
Even the Conferences in the Gulf States were very 
much deranged. 

(21.^) ■ 



216 THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 

These two wise men in Montgomery were looking 
ahead, thinking, and praying, and planning. They 
surmised that the end of the war was not far, and 
that the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, would 
"come up from the wilderness," not with a shout, 
"as an army with banners," but depressed in spirits 
and crippled in finances. "Now," thought they, "is 
the time to strike, when the old ruts are not so vis- 
ible, when prejudices are not so strong, while the 
Church is starting out npon a new mission and into 
a new era of its history." These wise men foresaw, 
appreciated the opportunity, and prepared to march 
in. They knew, just what men of brains have 
known for all time, that a class of men — innocent 
men — humanitarians by virtue of calling and age, 
are devoted to old land-marks, and morbidly oppose 
any thing that has the strange ring of an innova- 
tion; men who would still be nsing flint knives, but 
steel has been forced upon them; who glory not in 
that which is wise and that which is best, but in 
that which is old^ simply because it is old. The men 
at Montgomer}^ anticipated the opposition of this 
class, and hence they selected this most opportune 
time to act — the revolutionary period. There they 
stood, with one mind and one heart, looking over 
the land like St. Nicholas in the picture, purposing 
to give to the small and great children of the 
Church some happy and needed reforms. The Me- 
morial was talked about, then talked over, then taken 
to pieces, then criticised as to word and idea, then 
put together, until it was at last evolved — the most 
elaborate Church-paper ever produced. This, in 



THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 217 

brief, is the pre-conference history of the Green, 
alias Tennessee Conference, Memorial. 

It would require a whole pamphlet to give the 
speeches for and against this Memorial in the Ten- 
nessee Conference and in the General Conference. 
"We will throw a few items together in as condensed 
a form as possible. 

We copy in substance from the official record of 
the General Conference convened at New Orleans 
in 1866. Dr. Green was on the Committee on Books 
and Periodicals, Dr. T. O. Summers was chairman 
of the Committee on Revisal, and Dr. (Bishop) Mc- 
Tyeire was chairman of the special Committee on 
Lay Representation. Among the memorials pre- 
sented was one by Dr. Green to the Tennessee An- 
nual Conference, and referred by that body to the 
General Conference, and a counter memorial from 
the Columbia District, which were read and referred 
to the Committee on Changes of Economy. 

The leading propositions of the Memorial were: 
Lay Representation, the Extension of the Pastorate, 
a Bishop for each Conference, and the Church Con- 
ference. The proposition to elect a Bishop for each 
Conference f\xiled, and, in casting about for some- 
thing to supply the vacancy, the District Conference 
was suggested. This is an item of Church -history 
that has not before come to light. The District 
Conference was not exactly an accident, but sprang 
into life from the ashes of the Conference Bishop. 

The inauguration of the District Conference was 
violently opposed by a number of the old preachers, 
who, remembering the very unsatisfactory and de- 
10 



218 THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 

fective District Conferences held about 1824, sup- 
posed that a like body was in contemplation. This 
was just an honest mistake, which the present use- 
ful and happy Conference has proved. 

It is but justice to all parties to state that Dr. 
(Bishop) McTyeire, after mature deliberation, op- 
posed the election of Conference Bishops, and that 
Dr. Green himself was satisfied that it would not 
have been for the best. 

The Memorial sailed through upon an uncertain 
and disturbed sea. Even the Delegates from Dr. 
Green's own Conference (the Tennessee) were di- 
vided on the most important proposition — lay rep- 
resentation. Of the eleven Delegates seven voted 
against it. However, upon second thought, Dr. 
S. D. Baldwin changed his vote from the negative to 
the affirmative, making five for and six against lay 
representation in the Tennessee delegation. 

Dr. Green's reforms were a success, not through 
any occult maneuvering or electioneering, but by 
virtue of their intrinsic excellence. I never knew 
Dr. Green to nurse his reputation by caressing the 
brethren. He did not inquire an unknown brother's 
name, and storm him the next moment with a cor- 
dial recognition and inquiries as to the health of his 
relatives. He took advantage of no man's sim- 
plicity to magnify himself. The growlers did not 
follow him unless they had " an ax to grind." 

As he did not nurse his reputation, therefore he 
was bold to advance any project for the good of the 
Church, unterrified by any opposition that an inno- 
vation might arouse. 



THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 219 

Bishop McTyeire was familiar with the Memorial 
in its germ, stalk, and flower. We copy from his 
admirable funeral-discourse: "Dr. Green's position 
in favor of lay delegation, and subsequently in fa- 
vor of improved facilities for ministerial education, 
and the manner of his advocacy, were fixir expres- 
sions of the order of his mind. He was not sensi- 
tive about consistency when material circumstances 
had changed. While a Conference was little more 
than a meeting of preachers to return statistics and 
receive appointments, he saw no use in a lay element 
there; but when the Chnrch had broadened and 
complicated its operations, as a consequent of suc- 
cess, and had taken hold of the press, and of schools 
and colleges, and other kindred agencies, then he 
accepted the developed necessity, and was for calling 
lay counsel and cooperation." 

I submitted this paper to the inspection of Dr. T. 
0. Summers, knowing that, besides a thorough 
knowledge of the history of the Memorial, his po- 
sition as chairman of an important committee gave 
him large opportunity to favor or oppose. He has 
kindly furnished me with a chain of memories, which 
I subjoin as an illuminator: 

"Dr. G.reen had much to do with the emendations 
in the Book of Discipline. His even -balanced 
mind and practical judgment eminently fitted him 
for the work of a Church-legislator. He had re- 
spect for ^ancient things,' but no superstitious ven- 
eration for them ' simply because they ivere old.' He 
was not disposed to ride to mill with the grist in 
one end of the bas^, and stones in the other to bal- 



220 THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 

ance it. When the time came for the casting away 
of stones he knew it, and cast the stones away. A 
great deal of irrelevant matter, dead-letter laws, and 
the like, had accumulated in the Discipline during 
the history of the Church, and it was desirable to 
have these eliminated. Many thought it sacrilegious 
to touch an item of it, especially if it bore the im- 
primatur of Wesley or Asbury. They did not re- 
flect that if these venerable fathers of the Church 
were now living they would unhesitatingly cancel 
rules that were out of date and inoperative. With 
the encouragement of Dr. Green, I prepared a paper 
settins: forth such of these matters as we considered 
out of place in the Discipline, and it was presented 
to the General Conference w^hich met in Nashville 
in 1858. Dr. Green was a member of the Commit- 
tee on Revisal, and advocated the adoption of the 
suggestions made in that paper. The new rule 
which I prepared, with the Doctor's approval, for 
the abolition of the probationary system was, how- 
ever, laid on the table. We were surprised to find 
among many members of this Conference a tena- 
cious regard for that inconsistent and unscriptural 
policy. Wesley never intended the probation to 
which persons were subjected in order to member- 
ship in one of his Societies to apply to membership 
in the Church. He knew very well that in apos- 
tolic days any one who would take the threefold 
vow of baptism was received at once by that rite 
into the communion of the Church. Kot a day's 
delay is anywhere intimated in The Acts or Epistles 
of the Apostles. Dr. Green Avas very decidedly op- 



THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 221 

posed to it, as he had observed its mischievous oper- 
ations all through his life. But though the rule 
was not eliminated from the Discipline in 1858, we 
secured its removal in 1866. 

"At that Conference Dr. Green, Bishop McTyeire, 
and Thomas 0. Summers, were appointed a commit- 
tee to make a thorough revision of the Discipline. 
We held many conferences for that purpose, and with 
no small labor prepared a thorough digest of the 
work; had copies printed to put into the hands of 
the members of the next General Conference, which 
met at Memphis in 1870, and had the satisfaction 
of seeing it adopted with scarcely any change. 

" It fell to my lot to prepare the Forms for Receiv- 
ing Members into the Church, for the Laying of 
Corner-stones, and for the Dedication of Churches, 
and to indicate suitable changes in the Burial and 
Ordination Services; but Dr. Green gave his views 
on all these subjects, and made numerous and judi- 
cious suggestions. I remember that we were em- 
barrassed as to the manner in which we should 
frame the formula of the Reception and Recogni- 
tion of Members. Dr. Green urged that there were 
certain old people in the Church who would not be 
satisfied unless the candidates expressed a desire to 
flee from the wrath to come and be saved from their 
sins. But it seemed incongruous and superfluous to 
ask a man if he had that desire when he had just 
assumed the baptismal vows; I was not willing to 
stultify myself by so framing the formula. But on 
coming together again I suggested the form as it 
now stands: 'Dearly beloved, you profess to have a 



222 THE GREEN MEMORIAL. 

desire to flee from the wrath to come and to be 
saved from your sins; you seek the fellowship of the 
people of God to assist you in working out your 
salvation; I therefore demand of you, Do you sol- 
emnly, in the presence of God and this congrega- 
tion, ratify and confirm the promise and vow of re- 
pentance, faith, and obedience, contained in the bap- 
tismal covenant?' 

''The Doctor was delighted with the proposed 
form, and did much to secure its adoption. 

''Dr. Green also did much to secure the incorpo- 
ration of lay representation into our General and 
Annual Conferences; the introduction of District 
and Church Conferences; the extension of the pas- 
toral term; and other beneficial changes in the 
economy of the Church. He favored the multipli- 
cation of Bishops, and other changes, but ceased to 
press them when he saw that the Connection was 
not prepared for them. He had the sagacity of a 
statesman, the boldness of a reformer, and at the 
same time the caution and prudence of a judicious 
ruler in the Church of God." 




4.2. 
Home, Humoe, and Business. 

R. GREE^ was himself at home — satisfied, 
cheerful, and coramunicative. From 1831 
to 1857 his residence was in J^ashville, 
where he delighted to entertain the hosts 
that came. He removed to White's Creek, five 
miles north of the city, where he opened a large 
house to satisfy the demands of his great heart in 
entertaining the itinerant preachers and his numer- 
ous acquaintances far and near, and that he might 
at times gather his children and grandchildren 
about him. He was a host after the old Southern 
idea — not stifi^*, and strained, and suspicious of im- 
position, but natural and cordial. He did not annoy 
his guests with such excessive attention as to run 
them away — was not " hospitable with a vengeance." 
He recognized the freedom, of a friend under his 
own roof. He did not cross-question lifs guests if 
they failed to gorge themselves at his table; hence, 
energetic persons, who have wills, ways, and pur- 
poses, were anxious to come back. I do not think 
my father's visitors were anxious to get home just 
to rest. 

He was not a continuous conversationist, but was 

(223) 



224 HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 

silent at times; his judgment had to do with the 
matter and the time for conversation. He never 
talked over people nor under them. At home with 
his family he would not, if he could possibly avoid 
it, even refer to any thing sad or disagreeable; if he 
did, it was premised and concluded with suggestions 
of relief. He did not save his sallies of humor for 
popular occasions. Just any happy item that he 
gathered up on a preaching-tour was served up in 
his best style at the first meeting of the family. In 
this connection we are pleased to insert from the pen 
of Mrs. S. K. Johnson, of Cornersville, Tennessee: 

'' In the social circle Dr. Green often drew largely 
on the sleeping hours, and could hold the circle 
spell-bound just as long as he chose to do so. 

"One winter night, after the Sabbath exercises 
had closed, and we were cozily seated in our parlor, 
a morsel of mischief entered his head. My husband 
was a plain, matter-of-fact man, and scarce of wood 
that night; enough at the pile, but not enough cut. 
We had about enough lying in the corner for the 
morning fire. Dr. Green discovered that Mr. John- 
son was trying to save that icood; but he kept talk- 
ing in one of his most jocular veins, and occasionally 
would say, 'Lay on another one of your sticks, 
Brother Johnson.' Mr. Johnson, unconscious of 
what the Doctor was driving at, would look as if 
counting the sticks, and very reluctantly lay one 
more stick on the dying fire. That was fun for the 
Doctor; hence, he kept us and some of the visiting 
friends present profoundly interested until the last 
stick of Mr. Johnson's morning-wood had been cin- 



HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 225 



., XXWXTXV^i., 



dered, and the old clock on the mantel struck twelve, 
but Dr. Green was not yet sleepy — however, we all 
retired. The next morning he told the joke with 
a zest peculiar to himself. We all enjoyed it, and 
none more than Mr. Johnson. 

" Dr. Green's table-talk was an intellectual repast. 
We could not but grow wiser and better by his visits 
to our house, where he frequently put up. I feel 
honored in contributing to the comfort of so great 
and good a man." 

Referring to Dr. Green's social character, the Rev. 
William Witcher writes: " Dr. Green's success in so- 
cial life was wonderfully happy. He was the charm 
of the social circle. While anecdotes and witty 
sayings were always on his tongue, I never knew 
him to compromise his gentility or Christianity." 

Bishop McTyeire had ample opportunity to meas- 
ure the social character of Dr. Green. He says: 
"He had friends, and enjoyed friendship; and here 
was a marked feature of his character to one who 
studied it. His wealth of friendship was more than 
a luxury — he utilized it. He sought to please men 
for their good unto edification. There was a pur- 
pose and a method here. His rare social qualities 
and quick insight into character gave him a power 
of making friends that had no limit except oppor- 
tunity. He made friends of people that they might 
acquaint themselves with his Master and be his 
friends. How often have we seen him studying the 
points of approach, and conciliating and drawing 
near to one, and establishing confidence, that he 
might lead that person into the Church and to the 
10* 



226 HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 

Saviour! A personal attachment once established, 
there was force in the entreaty, ' Come thou, and go 
with us!' If this purpose and method took some 
of the sentiment out of friendship, it put sanctity 
into it." 

My father was a fine natural mechanic, and de- 
lighted in making little repairs about home. His 
jobs were as well finished as the work of any pro- 
fessional carpenter. He held in his own personal 
right a hoe and a pruning-knife, and right energet- 
ically and understandingly did he ply them until 
his strength failed and disease banished him from 
his home. 

Dr. R. A. Young, speaking of his home-life, says: 
"Dr. Green was exceedingly fond of his family, 
though he rarely ever spent one whole week with 
them. He laid out thousands of dollars to build a 
home, and labored for years to adorn and beautify 
it; but he never neglected the vineyard of the Lord. 
As Dr. Green was not a farmer, what did he want 
with so many acres? and as he had, in his old age, 
only two in family, why did he construct so large 
a house? His well-known purpose was that he 
might have all his children and grandchildren with 
him every summer. They were able to scatter to 
the ends of the earth, but he preferred that they 
should flock to ' Greenland.' Dr. Deems once vis- 
ited this place and spent a few days. As he was 
leaving the front gate, it is said he looked back and 
remarked, in his facetious way, 'Risky business 
for the old poet to die. Heaven must be a wonder- 
fully happy place if it is better than this.' " 



HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 227 

My father's beloved old friend. Dr. Thomas B. 
Sargent, writes to the Baltimore Episcojpal Methodist: 
" This letter is written from the home of Dr. A. L. 
P. Green. Here we have blue-grass, corn, sheep 
(I came in at the end of the shearing), cattle, and 
other appurtenances of a Tennessee farm of three 
hundred acres, with a spacious brick house, in a 
beautiful valley, and more than one 'prophet's 
chamber;' while the children and grandchildren 
of 'Parson G-reen' in summer fill the dwelling, as 
choice plants surround the table." 

Dr. D. C. Kelley was a frequent guest, and knew 
all the penetralia of the home-life. He says: "In 
the family. Dr. Green never seemed to govern; yet 
his wishes — imparted in such a way that we who 
were intimate in his family knew not how — were 
all -controlling. Dr. Hargrove has said that 'his 
life had been a sunbeam.' This was exquisitely 
true of his home-life. There was nothing somber; 
no repression of childish or youthful joys; his chil- 
dren wanted no sinful, outside pleasures, for all 
healthful recreations — toys, games, music -books, 
conversation — were found at home." 

My father was a business man — not in the sense 
of a wily speculator; he was simply a level-headed 
man — did not originate or entertain any visionary 
schemes. While he was a successful business man 
in accumulating property, his conjectural wealth, like 
that of all men reputed rich, was far in excess of the 
real. His liberality was always greater than his 
means, because he gave not according to what he 
had, but according to what people thought he had. 



228 HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 

I have known him to promise or subscribe amounts of 
money to charitable objects that his agent (Mr. T. D. 
Fite) could not cash twelve months after the date of 
the subscription. His kindness of heart led him to 
indorse for many personal friends, which resulted 
in a vast debt that will require more than a decade 
to pay. A few years before his death, apprehensive 
that his disease would prove fatal, he called his sons 
and sons-in-law together at the old home on Yine 
street. He desired to give the remnant of his days 
to the Church, and, that his mind and heart might 
not be diverted, transferred the management of his 
property, reserving the right to indorse only for the 
Southern Methodist Publishing House, which he 
did till his death. 

Bishop McTyeire, on this head, says: "Dr. Green 
was a rich man! This exceptional fact among 
preachers will bear an allusion. Few can be trusted 
with wealth, though many are willing for the exper- 
iment. A little property draws them out and draws 
them off after more. The care of it distracts the 
mind, and the possession of it divides the heart too 
much. It was not so wdth Dr. Green. You might 
be with him and work with him through a pro- 
tracted-meeting season, and never fin d out that he was 
wealthy. He never talked money, or houses, or 
lands, or bonds. If there were losses, no lamenta- 
tion was made over them. You looked in vain for 
any evidence of a distracted mind or divided heart 
in his devotions or his sermons. There was no hur- 
rying home to business, no neglect of the Church's 
w^ork for his own. His estate grew silently, and by 



HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 229 

judicious and quiet investment. I have seen other 
preachers more flustered with the management of 
a few hundred dollars and a few acres of land than 
this man was by a large estate. 

" In one respect his reputed fortune was damag- 
ing to the Church. To quote his own expression, 
he Mvorked for nothing, found himself, and paid 
for the privilege.' These thirty years he has not 
received for his ministerial services an annual 
amount equal to that which an honest day-laborer 
makes by breaking stones for the street. He might 
say to the Church of Tennessee, as Paul did to that 
of Corinth: 'Forgive me this wrong!' He did not, 
however, dry up the sources from whic^h he did not 
draw. Though refusing 'to be burdensome' to the 
Church, he never waived the right of other minis- 
ters to a maintenance. Often the small amount 
paid to him was turned over to the circuit- 
preacher who was short of his allowance. Lack of 
pay did not cause slackness of labor. He acted as 
though his bread depended on his salary, and his 
salary on his work. He went far, and was from 
home much; he started and arrived at midnight 
hours; he waited on the river-bank for the uncer- 
tain steam-boat, or took the cars at the nearest sta- 
tion; he traveled in rough ways, and put up with 
coarse fare; in heat and in cold he traveled, planned, 
organized, preached at meetings, and gave heed to 
special calls and appointments. ISTor was it perfunc- 
tory. His heart was in it, and he threw his whole 
strength into it; and this he continued to do until 
a wasting disease quite prostrated him. This good 



230 HOME, HUMOR, AND BUSINESS. 

comes of it incidentally: he cut off all occasion from 
them who desire occasion. There are those who 
believe, or affect to believe, that preaching is pro- 
fessional, and that we seek not to be supported that 
we m-ay preach, but to preach that we may be sup- 
ported. Here is one whose circumstances enabled 
him to furnish a vindication of his brethren." 

It much would please him 
That of his fortunes you would make a staff 
To lean upon. 




43. 

Dr. Geeen and the Wae. 

iO say that any sane man, living in the State 
of Tennessee, with a knowledge of pass- 
ing events, was neutral during the late 
war between the States, is to affirm an ab- 
surdity. We do not mean neutrality as to overt 
acts, but as to sympathy. I neither heard of nor 
saw that neutral man. 

Dr. Green warmly espoused the Southern cause. 
"What was the preponderating influence — the per- 
petuation of slavery, the independence of the Con- 
federacy, or just the wish to "live and die with his 
own people" — we know not. All we know is that 
he was Southern, very Southern, in his feelings and 
in his views. He delivered a number of lectures on 
the Crisis. I did not hear any of them, but under- 
stood that there was in them nothing inflammatory 
or abusive; that he administered advice, cool, prac- 
tical, and honest — just what the people needed at 
the time. I am not trying to excuse when I say 
that he delivered these lectures at the earnest solic- 
itation of his friends, and he intended them for the 
moral as well as the political good of his hearers. 
At that time (1861) the people were wild with en- 

(231) 



232 DR. GREEN AND THE WAR. 

thusiasm; there was no middle ground; the status 
of every man was fixed. Notwithstanding the 
minds and hearts of the multitude were all ab- 
sorbed in the vital issues of the day, Dr. Green car- 
ried no slavery or Confederate independence into 
the pulpit. During the brightest and darkest days 
of the struggle his sermons were clear of the 
^'things of Cesar." He kept his commission as a 
minister of righteousness unstained. 

After the fall of Fort Donelson, in February, 
1862, which necessitated the evacuation of N"ash- 
ville by the Confederates, Dr. Green and his wife and 
youngest daughter, joined the great hegira of fugi- 
tives southward — which flight no man has ever de- 
scribed to this day. They who were in Nashville 
on that memorable Sabbath (February 16) will never 
see the like again. 

At different points in the Confederate lines Dr. 
Green remained, and hoped, and suffered, until the 
" surrender." The interest he had manifested in the 
Southern cause, the active part that he had taken 
in the division of the Church and the prosecution 
of the Church suits, had made him odious (so he 
thought) to the extreme war-men of the North, and 
would insure him, if he remained in Nashville, a 
certain residence in a Northern prison. Such were 
his habits that a few months of confinement would 
have destroyed his life. While in the Confederacy 
he was appointed a chaplain, but did not serve be- 
cause of ill health. While with the troops in West- 
ern Virginia, to which division of the army his son 
Frank belonged, the fare and exposure produced a 



DR. GREEN AND THE WAR. 233 

fever and camp-itch, from which, combined with 
chilblain and tetter, he never recovered. To a man 
who had been so active all his life, just the tedium 
of the war must have been a great sorrow. 

He writes to a young lady friend — Miss Annie 
Kansom: 

"■July 2, 1864. We are now within two miles of 
Robinson Springs, and about ten miles from the city 
(Montgomery, Alabama), staying with a gentleman 
by the name of Jackson, who is quite a noble — I use 
this term in no offensive sense. He is not only well 
educated and intelligent, but is as liberal as a prince. 
He is high-toned and honorable, and knows what to 
do with his wealth. He and his family do all they 
can to make my wife and daughter comfortable. 

"I w^rite some; but paper is scarce, and I have to 
be sparing with the stock on hand. I have been 
fishing a few times, with fine success. I spend my 
time among my books; the variety is pretty good." 

I insert this letter, as much as any thing else, to 
give a pen-portrait of a class of ante-helium South- 
ern gentlemen who will be scarce in the South after 
this. 

I have also a communication from Mr. L. B. Fite, 
of Sumner county, Tennessee, who was a fellow- 
refugee and an intimate associate of my father dur- 
ing his sojourn in the South. "We copy ipsissima 
verba : 

"Dr. Green never indulged in harsh language or 
bitter denunciation of the Federals ; indeed, it would 
not have been in keeping with his character. But 
few men were posted better than he as to who were 



234 DR. GREEX AND THE WAR. 

the main political wire-pullers. Dr. Green spent 
most of his time in preaching, and attracted the love 
and admiration of the people. A day or two after 
the battle of Murfreesboro we were on a steam-boat 
bound to Gadsden from Rome. Some distance be- 
low Rome, at a landing, was a crowd of plainly- 
dressed people, mostly women, waiting for news 
from the battle as to the fate of their friends and 
kindred. On board was a small man from the front, 
who was surrounded at once when he stepped on 
the shore. Questions were rapidly asked and an- 
swered; it was a sad scene of deepest interest. 
Those poor women, with sun-bonnets and home- 
made dresses — some looked in silent despair; others 
screamed and sank to the ground. Dr. Green said 
to me, with deep emotion, ' This is the saddest scene 
that I have ever witnessed.' " 

Immediately after the "surrender" my father re- 
turned, and quietly and peacefully accepted the sit- 
uation. He expressed no foolish wishes, grumbled 
out no regrets, had no tears to shed over the defunct 
Confederacy. Without a word he "passed under 
the rod." 

Governor Brownlow, who in former years had 
enjoyed the hospitality of Dr. Green, gave him a 
letter of recommendation to the authorities at Wash- 
ington City, whither he went and obtained a pardon 
from President Johnson, and the release of his 
property, which had been held by the Federals dur- 
ing his absence. Thus endeth a short chapter of 
his political history. 




4=4r. 

Some of the Beatitudes. 

|R. GREEN was a peace-man. He could be 
a man of war when war was necessary; 
but he preferred peace — peace at home, 
peace in the Church, peace everywhere. 
There were chords in his heart that grated harshly 
when friend was arrayed against friend. He was 
ready to promote peace anywhere — in the Confer- 
ence or in the neighborhood. About this trait Dr. 
Walker says: "The Holy Spirit says, 'Speak evil 
of no man.' Dr. Green was a fine example in this 
direction. If there was any thing good to be said 
about a person or matter, he would be sure to see 
and say it. I remember there were a number of us 
discussing the attentions of a certain youug man of 
very moderate intellectual claims to a young lady 
of the highest social position, great beauty, grace, 
and wit, all heightened by sincere piety. One said, 
' How absurd ! ' another, ' How ridiculous ! ' another, 
' She is not fool enough to listen to him ! ' So it 
went round the circle. All said something border- 
ing on the sarcastic and severe. It seemed impera- 
tive on the Doctor to say something, which he did 
in liis own wise and charitable Avay: ' Well, I think 

(235) 



236 SOME OF THE BEATITUDES. 

he shows excellent taste.' This was the truth, and a 
compliment to both parties. The remark illustrates 
* Where there is a will there is a way' — a way to be 
charitable." 

Here is a pen -portrait, by a good artist. Bishop 
Paine says : " Dr. Green was no ordinary man — such 
as we meet at every corner of the streets — by no 
means. He was rotund, not angular; he was sub- 
stantial, not superficial. His ph^-sical corresponded 
with his mental; and all his mental faculties were 
so equably adjusted to each other that all was har- 
monious. He was fully six feet in height, and 
weighed two hundred pounds; his head w^as large, 
and full of brains; his eyes were blue, and indica- 
tive of gentleness and thought; his features were 
regular and handsome. K I were to state Dr. 
Green's peculiarities, I would mention his sound 
judgment, self-control, amiability, integrity, unself- 
ishness, and reticence about himself — not to speak 
of his piety, zeal, and constancy. The result of all 
these qualities was a great, good, and useful man. 
Thank God for the gift of such a man to the world 
and the Church, and for the love and companion- 
ship of such a man as friend and brother!" 

Dr. Green wrote favors upon the stone. We cite 
in proof a letter written, during the General Confer- 
ence of 1866, to the Rev. Smith W. Moore: "As it 
is a principle with me never to forsake a friend or 
forget a favor, I feel it to be not only my duty, but 
also my pleasure, to make a grateful acknowledg- 
ment of the kind attentions that I received in your 
goodly city. I had no claim upon you, and there- 



SOME OP THE BEATITUDES. 237 

fore felt most deeply the manifestations of brotherly 
love with which I was greeted. God bless you and 
yours!" 

We have another ideal picture of a number of 
the beatitudes, b}^ one of the masters. Bishop Mc- 
Tyeire says: "Dr. Green was singularly free from 
envy. Often, and freely, and confidently, have we 
canvassed men and measures, and never did I hear 
him make a remark that could be traced to this 
subtle and baneful source. It is a common saying 
that public men are jealous of each other; and the 
Christian ministry does not altogether escape the 
charge. To allow grudgingly the existence of 
merit, which cannot be denied, in another, and to 
offset it with the inevitable but, is too common. 
The public will have its favorites, and suggests ri- 
valry where there is only cooperation, and thus pro- 
vokes the exhibition it condemns. Envy is the vice 
of weak and ambitious minds, and A. L. P. Green 
was neither. One possessed of his power and re- 
sources must be conscious of them more or less. 
Then he took the measure of other men with entire 
self-possession, ^o greatness of reputation or of 
title dazed him. His bearing was quiet and mod- 
est, but not embarrassed by any presence. He saw 
ivhere the power lay, and where the weakness. To 
him the greatest men were not so great, nor the best 
so good, as they seemed to others; neither were the 
smallest so small, nor the worst so bad. Why should 
he be envious who felt assured of his position, and 
could hold his own with the foremost? This feat- 
ure of his character may be thus traced to a natural 



238 SOME OF THE BEATITUDES. 

cause; but I will not exclude a moral one. There 
was work to be done for the Master. On that his 
heart was set, and he rejoiced at the skill or power 
that any workman could bring to bear. He was 
more concerned to build up one's reputation than 
to detract from it, since thereby efficiency was in- 
creased. He saw the necessity for the various gifts 
of the Spirit, and took the broad view — 'Whether 
Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, all are yours, and ye 
are Christ's, and Christ is God's.' " 

We have also an ideal picture from Dr. Summers 
on one of the beatitudes. Verily, I know no man 
more fond of peace, and a greater admirer of the 
peace-maker, than Dr. Summers. He looks fierce 
sometimes, and calls you a fool; but he means this 
as an expression of his love and esteem, and only 
his dearest friends are honored thus. He called my 
father a "fool" a thousand times, and he loved no 
man more. He speaks for himself: "Dr. Green was 
eminently a peace-maker; he composed hundreds of 
differences, forestalled difficulties, precluded suits in 
civil and ecclesiastical courts, and harmonized con- 
flicting elements in social life. We have repeatedly 
heard the remark that 'Dr. Green never spoke un- 
kindly of any one.' He seemed disposed to say 
something good of everybody of whom it was pos- 
sible to say any thing good at all. This was a beau- 
tiful feature in his character. His quiet and often 
indirect manner of bringing men under the influ- 
ence of religion was truly remarkable.'' 

Dr. Redford says: "I never knew any one so des- 
titute of selfishness as Dr. Green. The srood name 



SOME OF THE BEATITUDES. 239 

of his brethren was as dear to his heart as his own. 
If at any time he deemed it proper to criticise the 
actions of another, no word of unkindness fell from 
his lips; and so affable was he that no matter how 
warmly he might urge a question, if decided against 
his views, instead of throwing any obstacle in the 
way of its success, he would cooperate with those 
by whom he had been opposed. He took his posi- 
tions, both as to men and measures, after the most 
mature thought, and adhered to them with the 
greatest tenacity. He followed no beaten path; he 
lived in an atmosphere of his own, and thought for 
himself, never swerving to the right or to the left." 
Bishop McTyeire, in his reference to the "but," 
reminds me of a certain variety of compliments that 
partake of the offensive, and border on the cruel. 
One's compliments should be done up as neatly as 
his linen. A shirt is not receivable, however im- 
maculate otherwise, if there be a black spot on the 
bosom. A compliment is not prepared for delivery 
until it is clean. I prefer my flies without sugar, or 
my sugar without flies. My father complimented 
those who were worthy^ and his compliments were 
acceptable because they were clean. Salt is a pre- 
server, and very necessary to the purity of matter; 
but really I do not think I am in such danger of 
spoiling that even my ice-cream must be salted. An 
enthusiast on the subject of hygiene might think it 
necessary, but a sensible confectioner would hardly 
place asafetida in a marriage-cake. 




45. 

Dr. Green — Publishing Interests. 

FIE Southern Methodist Publishing House, 
located in Nashville, has intimately con- 
nected with its history the name of A. L. 
P. Green. Perhaps more than any other 
man, he was instrumental in securing the funds nec- 
essary to its inauguration. He was emphatically 
its tutelar angel until his death. As he was never 
afflicted with the sore-head, or hobbled with any en- 
vious distemper, he could aftbrd to favor, by his 
influence and personal attention, any connectional in- 
terest, no matter who was in charge. If he had any 
dislikes, they were subordinated to the general good, 
and he was never found aside looking askance and 
jpouting because he was not honored with some berth 
of emolument and trust. 

The Church suit being determined, the next thing 
was to decide upon the best location south of the 
Ohio River for the great imblishing interest. The 
requisites of centrality, accessibility, and health, 
w^ere to be combined in the situation. There are 
many who can recall the discussion in the General 
Conference of 185.4, in Columbus, Georgia, wnth 
reference to the location of the Publishing House. 
(240) 



DR. GREEX — PUBLISHING INTERESTS. 241 

Louisville, Memphis, St. Louis, Atlanta, Athens 
(Georgia), Prattville, and Nashville, presented peti- 
tions. The claims of these respective places were 
represented by the first talent of the Church: J. 
Hamilton, Daniel Pratt, C. B. Parsons, G. W. D. 
Harris, John Hogan, Trusten Polk, J. E. Evans, A. 
L. P. Green, Lovick Pierce, E. Stevenson, C. K. 
Marshall, B. T. Crouch, J. W. McFarland, and J. 
C. Keener. Earnest, and labored, and wise, were 
the towering speeches, but Nashville's representa- 
tive, A. L. P. Green, came off from the field victo- 
rious. The sixth ballot resulted in the choice of 
Nashville, Louisville receiving fifty-seven votes and 
Nashville sixty. 

My fiither, referring to this discussion, said that 
he was very much quizzed by a facetious reflection 
of the Pev. William McMahon on the water sup- 
ply of the Cumberland. Mr. McMahon represented 
Memphis, and of course, must disparage every other 
place in nomination. In his strictures on the river 
privileges of Nashville, he said that he " admitted 
the little Cumberland was navigable, but that it 
could only aspire to thunder navigation.''^ I will not 
oftend the perception of the reader by explaining 
w^hat he meant. 

During the administration of every Agent of the 
Methodist Publishing House Dr. Green has been a 
counselor in full confidence. 

Bishop McTyeire says, " To Dr. Green, more than 

to any other man, Nashville owes the establishment 

of the Southern Methodist Publishing House; and 

more than all other men, since it was established, 

11 



242 DR. GREEN — PUBLISHING INTERESTS. 

has lie lent it his credit to promote its business. As 
M member of the Book Committee and Missionary 
Board, his counsel and service were valuable, and 
always cheerfully and patiently given." 

Dr. Summers, who has been in and around the 
Publishing House since its beginning, says: "Dr. 
Green was one of the leading projectors of the Pub- 
lishing House. He used his iniiuence.to bring it to 
N'ashville. He watched over its interests with 
sleepless vigilance and judicious care. As chair- 
man of the Publishing Committee, his counsels were 
invaluable. We looked to him as a tower of strength. 
He kindly extended to us sympathy and aid. We 
have frequently argued questions with him, and 
then, convinced or not convinced, we have trusted 
his superior judgment and followed his counsels, 
having so much confidence in his rare wisdom." 

Dr. Bedford, the present Agent of the Publishing 
House, says: " In 1866 I was elected by the General 
Conference to take charge of the publishing inter- 
ests of the Church. Dr. Green was elected a mem- 
ber of the local Book Committee at Nashville. 
From this period we w^ere thrown together almost 
every day, and between us the warmest friendship 
and most intimate relations existed. However 
much I had admired him for his genius and com- 
manding talents as a preacher of the gospel, now 
that I had an opportunity of studying him closely, 
my admiration at once ripened into reverence and 
affection. In the trying difficulties and perplexities 
through which I passed in the incipiency of my 
agency, growiirg out- of the prostrate condition of 



DR. GREEN — PUBLISHING INTERESTS. 243 

the Publishing House, he firmly stood by and sus- 
tained me; and to him the Church in a great meas- 
ure is indebted for any success with which this 
institution has been favored." 

Speaking of my father as a business man, he pos- 
sessed, to an eminent degree, the faculty of concen- 
tratino^ or divertins: his mind. While the location 
of the Publishing House was nnder discussion, he 
sat by his table and wrote me a letter. 'No doubt 
he was very much interested, but only a few sen- 
tences are devoted to the proceedings of the Confer- 
ence. Among other non-official matters, he makes 
some humorous allusions to Brother Carr and the 
ladies, and some good-natured reflections on Dr. 
Wadsworth and others. 

Industrious wisdom often does prevent 
What lazy folly thinks inevitable. 




m 



46. 

Our Mosaic. 

NATURAL definition of greatness is, To 
do well and effectively any thing that is 
worth doing at all. The great man is not 



a negative but a positive character — not 

so much a man who knows as a man who does. When 
we speak of great preachers the subject is preach- 
ing. My father had a reputation for preachings 
indeed, was one of the great preachers. Tliey are 
the best judges of preaching who have preached 
themselves. I am not willing to sit alone in judg- 
ment on this case, but have conceived a mosaic, which 
shall be the united testimony of his brethren. How- 
ever, I must reserve the right to cast aside a piece 
that has a false color or a false angle. Where can 
we find a purer or a brighter center-piece than the 
estimate of his old friend, Bishop Paine? 

The Bishop says: "An incident occurred, under 
my administration as a Bishop, which unveiled his 
true character as an itinerant preacher. After Dr. 
Green and several other prominent preachers had 
been retained in Nashville and its vicinity for a 
number of years, by annual reappointments, some, 
from remote and less popular fields of labor, began 
(24-0 



OUR MOSAIC. 245 

to intimate that there was favoritism in it, and this 
feeling increased until it was likely to work evil 
toward both the supposed favorite and those making 
the appointment. I heard the complaint so fre- 
quently that I resolved, when it came my turn to 
preside at that Conference, I would remove all 
ground for it. Accordingly I informed Dr. Green, 
early in the session, that, as his term of Presiding 
EldershiiJ had expired on that District, and as he 
had been about Kashville several years, I thought it 
best to give him a new and more distant work; to 
which he promptly answered, ^Give me the ap- 
pointment you think best for the Church, and I 
will try and fill it. I may not move my family, but 
that shall not prevent my going to it, and doing the 
best I can.' I did as I suggested, and he as he 
promised, and he did a most useful and happy year's 
labor. Such complaints rarely occur among our 
traveling ministers, whom I have found by long 
experience to be the most useful and noble class of 
men I ever knew. Such was the general conviction 
that Dr. Green was eminently adapted, by his busi- 
ness qualities as well as by his ministerial and social 
influence, to be closely connected with the most im- 
portant interests of the general Church, that long 
before his decease no breath of murmur was heard. 
It was evident to all that he was working for the 
Church, and not for himself. He gave to the Church 
every year far more than he received; for he was 
eminently pure and unselfish. 

" His voice was clear and musical, his gestures few 
and natural. His manner as a speaker, whether in 



246 OUR MOSAIC. 

the pulpit or on the rostrum, was peculiarly simple, 
beginning without a flourish of trumpets. He soon 
entered upon his theme, and, without any apparent 
eiibrt, attracted the attention of his hearers. His 
great common sense gave him an intuitive knowl- 
edge of the most direct and effective approaches to 
the minds and hearts of his fellow-men, and enabled 
him to wield great power over them. It mattered 
not how many speakers had gone before him, no one 
had made his speech or exhausted his subject. He 
always found something new and attractive to say. 
He found diamonds by the beaten highway, and sur- 
prised his hearers by his magic illustrations. His 
manner of narrating facts, and his anecdotes, never 
failed to attract attention ; and while he would almost 
convulse the audience, he alone seemed unmoved. 
He found no difficulty in controlling men, whether 
assembled by thousands at the camp-meetings on his 
District or on other occasions. His ministerial pe- 
culiarities were naturalness of manner, clearness, 
pathos, which made him at once the favorite of 
children and of all popular assemblies." 

Bishop McTyeire, who is au fait as a sermon- 
critic, says: "As a preacher he had no model, and 
furnished none. When he took a text he made a 
sermon by what he got out of it, or by what he 
brought to it. He entertained, he instructed, he 
impressed, he moved, the multitudes who always and 
everywhere flocked to hear him. A preacher, he 
preached. He had faith in preaching the word, and 
in the word preached. A few years ago the English 
clergy showing great interest in societies, asylums, 



OUR MOSAIC. 247 

schemes, schools, and convocations, the London 
Times made the critical and perhaps invidions re- 
mark that ' our preachers seem to have more confi- 
dence in every thing else than in preaching.' Xot 
so Dr. Green; he loved to preach. In the pulpit, on 
the camp-ground stand, on steam-hoats, in the school- 
house, under the shade of trees, he was ready to 
preach. There he made his mark; there his great 
work was done, and there are his reputation and re- 
ward. Souls were quickened, converted, and saved. 
Mourners were comforted, the erring reclaimed, the 
vacillating established. He lifted up the ' banner of 
the cross,' and rallied the people to it, in the wilder- 
ness and in the city full. In subduing this country 
to the gospel this man has won a just renown, 
which few can share with him." 

Dr. J. B. Walker, of the Louisiana Conference, 
furnishes the following: "As a preacher Dr. Green 
was unique, and almost inimitable. Young preach- 
ers are almost sure to be unconscious imitators of 
the older men whose style they admire. I think Dr. 
Green had fewer imitators than any eminent and 
popular preacher I ever knew. The reason of it 
grew out of the peculiarit}^ of his style, which was 
the personification and embodiment of calmness and 
self-possession. Now, these are just the elements 
mpst difficult for young preachers to command and 
exhibit. The Doctor has told me that in his early 
ministry he was rapid and vehement — so much so 
that his vocal powers were in danger of being ut- 
terly broken down, and he was compelled to a com- 
plete revolution of his manner. 



248 OUR MOSAIC. 

"I first saw and heard Dr. Green when he was 
Presiding Elder on the Cumberland District. His 
new and improved elocutionary habit was then fully 
established. He was calm without being cold, de- 
tailed without being tedious. His manner was ani- 
mated, but deliberate; his language was clear, but 
seldom ornate. Few needed a dictionary to under- 
stand him; none ran ahead. He kept his thoughts 
and sympathies well in hand, and never suffered them 
to run away Avith him. Speakers sometimes intel- 
lectually, and sometimes emotionally, rise far above, 
and get away beyond, their hearers. In such cases 
the audiences become mere spectators, without any 
appreciative sympathy; they stare at his intellectual 
soarings or emotional glowings, but have no 'lot nor 
part' in the matter. Dr. Green's audiences never 
stood aloof from him and his theme, but rose, glowed, 
and melted with him. He rarely preached what are 
technically called doctrinal sermons. He seemed to 
assume that the elementary and essential principles 
of the gospel were already known to his audiences; 
that they did not need so much to be instructed as 
to be moved and persuaded. 

"His knowledge of human nature was profound 
and wide, and, we think, constituted one of the chief 
elements of his power as a j^reacher. As a spiritual 
geologist, he explored human nature to its last and 
lowest stratum. As a spiritual musician, he knew 
well how to touch the wondrous harp of man — its 
thousand chords responsive to his will. His ser- 
mons were according to Blair's beau ideal, 'persua- 
sive orations.' 



OUR MOSAIC. -249 

"His next element of power, considered as a man, 
was his wonderful, descriptive power. He painted 
with artistic completeness and finish. He took time 
to do exhanstively and well. He never seemed to 
be in a hurry, as though he feared his audience 
might become impatient of minute detail — not at all. 
He saw all the' points of a picture, and he clearly 
portrayed it all to your mental eye. He would not 
tell you that he simply saw a tree; no, it was a nut- 
bearing, a hickory tree; it was covered with leaves, 
beginning to show the marks of age; its nuts were 
ripening; on a branch sat a squirrel, with his plumy 
tail aloft, and barking for joy; nnder the shadow 
rested a flock of sheep; close by wandered a little 
stream, into which a traveler had just ridden, and 
rested a moment nntil his thirsty horse had sipped 
from the brook. He made you see it all. In his calm 
and detailed procedure there seemed to be a con- 
sciousness of power, as if he felt he could hold his 
audience, and, when he wished, bear them forward 
along his paths and to his destination. His intui- 
tions did not deceive him; he did hold and conti'ol 
his hearers. While so calm and so minute, he was 
not dry, but tenderly pathetic. His blue eyes often 
filled and swam with tears as the deep tide of his 
emotion bore him and his weeping hearers on its 
ever-deepening volume. 

" It was a sight to see, at some of the great camp- 
meetings, where thousands were gathered to hear. 
His noble person, his easy dignity of manner, his 
clear enunciation, from the first commanded atten- 
tion. As he moved forward in his luminous march, 
11^^ 



250 OUR MOSAIC. 

all moved with him, the interest ever deepening and 
widening, the people forgetting more and all but 
the glorious theme. Every eye followed his few and 
simple gestures; every form bent forward anon, as 
the preacher kindled and rose with his theme. The 
people on the outskirts of the mighty throng would 
press closer up; one and another would uncon- 
sciously rise to their feet; scores and hundreds 
would be standing, hundreds weeping; sobs could be 
heard, and suppressed shouts, bursting from hearts 
too full to contain. These were splendid triumphs 
of consecrated eloquence. The unfolding mysteries 
of eternity alone will be able to reveal the multi- 
tudes he wooed and won to Christ, and lured to 
fairer worlds on high." 

Dr. D. C. Kelley, from liis childhood up, was ac- 
quainted with Dr. Green and his preaching. He 
says: "On one occasion, at a camp-meeting in my 
native county of Wilson, while describing the escape 
of the man -slayer to the city of refuge, pursued by 
the avenger of blood, the audience had drawn in 
from all quarters, and stood a compact mass, with ear 
and eye intent upon the speaker. So interested had 
they become that finally, when the last stage of the 
struggle came, and the speaker, pausing, exclaimed, 
as the fugitive arrived at the gate, with the hoarse 
breathing of the pursuer in his ears, ' Who will open 
the gate?' an acquaintance of mine sprang forward, 
answering, as the tears streamed down his face, ^I '11 
open it! I '11 open it!' 

"Again, at a camp-ground near Lebanon, he had 
preached in the morning; but the pressure to hear 



OUR MOSAIC. 251 

him was so great that he was forced to preach again 
at night. In his peroration he had been describing 
heaven, as he loved so much to do, and as the peo- 
ple loved so much to hear. After the description, 
which, to our inartistic eye, seemed as complete as 
human limner could make it, he turned to the theme 
of the angelic inhabitants and their after-commun- 
ion with the blood- washed saints. Intense silence 
had sat on the audience for some minutes; the great 
painter threw another heart-touch on the canvas, 
moving to the work with delicate calmness, but with 
such power that a single female voice unconsciously 
and softly uttered the word 'glory.' The spell was 
broken, and from lip to lip the echo rang, until the 
whole congregation, from altar to outskirts, swelled 
in shout after shout. Generally he produced silent 
weeping, and quietly fastened on the memory great 
truths and heart-pictures in colors indelible. His 
sermons are remembered everywhere. The children 
listened to him with joy." 

Dr. J. B. McFerrin furnishes our mosaic the fol- 
lowing: "Dr. Green as a preacher was unique, and 
was formed after no model. He never studied, in 
his younger days, the rules of pulpit oratory, and 
yet he was not devoid of the artistic, nor did he ig- 
nore the power of art. In his artistic skill he had 
the power of making every thing appear natural. 
He was ambitious — that is, he courted earnestly the 
best gifts. He always desired to excel as a preacher ; 
to preach well was the highest object of his life. 
No accomplishment, no attainment, no reputation, 
was equal, in his estimation, to the character of an 



252 OUR MOSAIC. 

able preacher of the gospel. He was wise in coun- 
sel and prudent in demeanor; but his great forte was 
in the pulpit. He looked for immediate fruit; all 
his pulpit efforts were aimed at immediate results. 
He seldom preached on doctrinal questions or con- 
troverted subjects. He aimed at the heart, and that 
often through the imagination. He moved his au- 
diences, and when he failed in that he regarded his 
sermon as worth but little." 

Dr. J. W. Hanner, who has stood shoulder to 
shoulder with my father through many a revival- 
season, says: "Dr. Green seemed to me a great 
preacher; but his sermons were not perfect. A 
faultless sermon in the pulpit is an abomination, 
standing where it ought not. So eloquent and quiet 
was he that one knew not that the preacher was elo- 
quent till he felt a tear on his cheek, and looked out 
on a weeping crowd. A great Bishop preached to 
the same congregation; it was a very proper ser- 
mon. Many handkerchiefs were moistened, but not 
by tears ; it was a w^arm day in August. 

"His general habit of description was by detail, 
having in it more fancy than imagination. Fancy 
deals with externals; imagination cuts right into 
the heart of things. Kow and then his descriptions 
wearied some people; but they made an impression, 
and left their image on the mind. Sometimes his 
imagination rose above fancy, and struck out in 
words, few, sharp, terse, and curt. 

"At a camp-meeting he described a conflict be- 
tween a strong, square-built Dutch merchantman 
and a pirate-ship. The brig was becalmed and be- 



OUR MOSAIC. 253 

fogged. When the fog lifted there was seen in the 
distance a black line lying on the sea, like a snake. 
A stiff breeze has sprung up, and the chase begun. 
A shot came skipping across just before the brig. 
The captain put every man at his post. All ready; 
ten knots an hour; the pirate bore down quartering. 
When near enough, our captain cried, ' Square the 
yards ! ' When he looked back he saw nothing but 
floating barrels. Now, your small critic would make 
the captain say, 'Square away there!' Who cares? 
The order drove the merchantman plumb through 
the pirate. 

''At Gallatin, Tennessee, he delivered a funeral- 
discourse on the Rev. T. L. Douglass, in which he 
stated that 'if the earth went round the sun accord- 
ing to the law^s of nature it would describe an olypse, 
but as God carried it round it made a perfect circle.' 
When taken to task about this blunder astronomical, 
he wanted to know 'what was the matter.' In the 
first place, I stated, there is no such word as olypse: 
next, the learned tell us that the earth's orbit is not 
a perfect circle. 'Well,' said he, 'when we preach 
philosophy and astronomy, we speak to a few men 
who know more about such things than we do; let 
us preach the gospel.' 

" One has heard sermons — scientific sermons, very 
proper sermons — by bookish men, who could fix to a 
dot the foci of parabolical curves, that were worth 
about fifteen cents per cart-load. There is more 
food for a hungry man in a hearty, human, blun- 
dering sermon than in the exceedingly proper, 
ivory -headed, Sunday essays, which make the 



254 OUR MOSAIC. 

hearer inwardly sigh, 'Tell me, my soul, can this 
be joy?'" 

The Rev. William Witcher, a member of the Ten- 
nessee Conference, and a young man comparatively, 
assists in composing the mosaic. He says: "Dr. 
Green's opinion was sought, from the Sunday-school 
class to the Bishop's cabinet. It became common 
about the Southern Methodist Publishing House 
and in the Annual Conference to quote him as au- 
thority. I have heard Dr. Green preach, when he 
reminded me of Samson taking hold of the pillars 
of the temple, that he might move the house and all 
who were in and on it. His sermons were as long 
as they were powerful and profound, and yet the 
uneducated could understand all he said. He might 
be called 'the dramatic preacher of the South.' He 
made no attempt at profound scholarship, and yet 
one or two strokes of his imagination would ex- 
haust all the adverse criticism in the house." 



47. 
Dr. Greex and the Schools. 




J]R. GREEN, while not a school-man, was 
very much in favor of schools. While 
he never expressed a regret that he was 
not classically educated, he never decried 
the education of others. Just any thing that was 
worth learning, he was anxious that everybody 
should learn. Upon no occasion in all his life did 
he let slip a boast that he was a self-made man. His 
opinion was that, as a general rule, self-made men 
might have been made much better. He never 
courted the applause of the vulgar by sUjy-shod flings 
at learning; hence, he was immensely popular with 
men of letters. His strong, practical views fur- 
nished the school-man a substantial fabric for his 
dreams. 

Next to the preaching of the word, came the ed- 
ucation of the young — both male and female. La 
Grange and Florence Universities were literary chil- 
dren for whom he talked and prayed, and for whom 
he always had a word of encouragement. In 1849 
he was chosen by the young men of the Dialectical 
and La Fayette Societies of La Grange College to 
deliver an address, which was published by their 

(255) 



256 DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 

request. The female institutions under the auspices 
of the Church found him a willing and sympathetic 
counselor. 

In 1872 the Central University had hecome a 
living idea, with its Board of Trust and Charter. 
How long it had been upon the stocks, from the 
first conception until it became a fully-developed 
project, we know not. We do know that Dr. Green 
had been thinking and talking for years upon this 
consummation; w^e know that the plan was not 
in favor from every side; we know that Dr. Green 
and other strong men stood shoulder to shoulder, 
and w^ent towering their tremendous plan through 
the Conferences. Have we said too much? Let us 
hear from Bishop McTyeire. He says: 

"Though Dr. Green owed nothing to colleges, he 
came in time to make them, and they owed much to 
him. La Grange, the first in the Church, was initi- 
ated the same year he Avas ordained elder; and to 
his forecast, and zeal, and eloquent pleading, we 
owe, more than to any other man, the consent and 
combination of influences pledged to the larger 
scheme now rising: in the western suburbs of Nash- 
ville. He might have hesitated to urge on others 
the value of an education which he himself had not 
obtained; he might have pleaded his own case in 
proof that it was not necessary to success, but he 
was too wise to make a rule of exceptional cases. 
He had understanding of the times to know what 
Israel ought to do. I never knew him, in such 
matters, to be feeling about for the strong or the 
popular side." 



DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 257 

Dr. T. 0. Summers (the Vice-chancellor and Dean 
of the Yanderbilt Faculty) says: "Though Dr. 
Green did not enjoy in his youth the advantages of 
a liberal education, he prized those advantages very 
highly; made up, as far as circumstances would 
allow, for their lack by strenuous efforts in after 
life; and did a great deal to secure such advantages 
to the rising ministry. He was one of the project- 
ors of the Central (now Yanderbilt) University, the 
treasurer of its funds, and looked forward with the 
liveliest interest to the development of that institu- 
tion, on which he had bestowed so much thought 
and labor. He wanted to see — and we trust he 
will see from the ramparts of the other world — 
hundreds of the sons of the prophets flocking to its 
halls, and going forth from them divinely qualified 
for the work of the ministry." 

The last work ni}^ father did was for the Yander- 
bilt. He traveled in the interest of the institution 
when he should have been at home in his room 
under the care of a nurse and a physician. Those 
who understand the nature of his disease compre- 
hend when I say that he shed his blood for the 
Yanderbilt, and suffered as he went. 

Dr. Young (Secretary of the Yanderbilt Univer- 
sity) says: "Dr. Green and I had our desks in the 
same office. One morning in June, 1874, he seemed 
more feeble than usual. I handed him some money. 
He took it to the bank and left it on deposit, came 
back, handed me the book and the key to his drawer, 
saying, 'Here, Yoimg, I have quit' That was the 
last interview hut one." 



258 DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 

I have a number of letters written to his young 
lady correspondent, Miss Annie Ransom, which re- 
flect his deep interest in the Central and Yanderbilt. 
He writes in 1871 : " I am sorry to say that my quar- 
terly-meeting at Culleoka will have to be postponed. 
I am compelled to attend the North Mississippi 
Conference, which will meet next Wednesda}", at 
Columbus. I have just returned from the Memphis 
Conference. I go in the interest of the great Con- 
nectional University which we are tr^dng to estab- 
lish; and it is thought there will be difficulties in 
the way, and the old men of the Church think I 
must go." 

He writes from Hot Springs, April 4, 1874: "I 
expect to leave here April 23, for home. I want to 
be present at the corner-stone laying and the meeting 
of the Board of Trust, and then on to Louisville, 
to the General Conference. My health has im- 
proved somewhat. My feet have greatly improved. 
I rest better at night than I did some time ago, and 
my spirits are better, which is no small matter with 
me. I will not be able to return before the meetino: 
of the Board of Trust, and by that time I fear that 
I shall have lost all that I gained." 

While at Hurricane Springs he becomes quite a 
diplomate in the interest of the great coimedional en- 
terprise. He writes to Dr. McFerrin, August 6, 1872 : 
"I am now at these springs, trying the effect of the 
water on my tetter. What will be the result I do 
not knovv^ In other respects my health is good. 

"I have been anxious for some time to have a full 
conversation with you on the subject of the contcm- 



DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 259 

plated Central University. I should like to see you, 
but I may not have the chance, as the Conferences 
will be calling you off. 

''I shall take it for granted that the institution, 
as understood by the Bishops and Board of Trus- 
tees, meets your approbation, and, consequently, I 
will not allow that now to be an open question. 
The main point to which I wish to direct your at- 
tention is this: The subject will again be submitted 
to the Annual Conferences, and the Tennessee will 
be the first to take action on the subject. If it 
should go smoothly through our Conference, I think 
there will be no trouble in the other Conferences. 
My object in this note is to get you to conduct the 
matter before the Tennessee Conference. I am so 
fully committed that it might be supposed I was in 
favor of an independent theological institute, and 
might not be able to unite all the members of the 
Conference in favor of the University. It is known 
that you have not favored a theological institute 
per 56, and were you to go forward and conduct the 
subject through the Tennessee Conference, it would 
have the effect of uniting all the parts. I have no 
interest to serve, as you know. I am noAv growing 
old, and must soon pass away; but I feel a strong 
desire to see the institution established. We have 
no endowment anywhere in the Church, South, 
that can be made available in giving aid to young 
preachers, and you know how our colleges are now 
crowded with dead-heads, and that something must 
be done. 

"Should the endowment fund be obtained (and I 



260 DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 

think it can), the Bishops will locate the institution 
in IS^ashville; but I am for the institution, locate it 
where they may. E"ow, I want you to take charge 
of the question before the Tennessee Conference, 
and let me be seen only as a voter, and the brethren 
who may have had some doubts in their minds will, 
I think, be fully satisfied. Take charge of this sub- 
ject; you can reconcile all discordant elements; and 
let us put this great charity through. I think we 
shall have about one hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars as a bonus — that is, that amount is offered 
without any agent being put into the field." 

He writes from Louisville, May 7, 1874: "I can- 
not write this morning, my nerves are so unsteady. 
I cannot think of any thing new that would interest 
you. I recollect that Commodore Yanderbilt has given 
one hundred thousand dollars more, which makes six 
hundred thousand that he has given. So we are 
moving on with the University. The Medical 
School of Nashville University has come over, and 
we have accepted it as our school; and we have or- 
ganized the L^w School." 

So, through sickness and feebleness extreme, when 
other men would have lost interest, when he knew 
that his feet were on the margin of the river, when 
he felt like one " laid upon the shelf," he tenaciously 
clung to the Yanderbilt, for it was the fruition of 
a hope that he had cherished for years. 

Upon my first meeting with Dr. L. C. Garland 
(Chancellor of the Yanderbilt University), he re- 
marked: "One of the principal inducements that 
brought me here was that I might enjoy the society 



DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 261 

of your father." The association was but a few 
days, but it may be reneAved in 

Thcat sun-bright clime, 
Undimmed by sorrow and unhurt by time, 
Where age hath no power o'er the fadeless frame, 
Where the eye is fire, and the heart is flame. 

The able and venerable Chancellor has generously 
thrown in his contribution of memories, which we 
draw out as pure gold from the furnace: 

" I met with Dr. Green only on a few public oc- 
casions, but these were sufficient to impress me with 
a sense of his unusually high order of talents. The 
first of the occasions was tlie commencement of the 
Memphis Conference Female Institute, at Jackson, 
in 1869. Your father had accepted an invitation to 
preach the commencement-sermon on Sunday, and 
to deliver an address before the Institute on Monday, 
E to deliver an address to the graduating-class on 
Wednesday. During the four days of our presence 
we occupied the same room and ate at the same 
board. I soon discovered the uncommon colloquial 
powers of Dr. Green, and his kind and gentle dispo- 
sition. He was the life of every circle into which 
he entered. His fund of anecdote and of apt illus- 
tration was inexhaustible, and his powers of narra- 
tion unsurpassed. His attraction for children was 
magnetic. The younger pupils of the Institute 
were ever hanging about him, and playing with him 
as if he were a pet. He entered sweetly into all 
their innocent humors and whims. 

^'A little incident that occurred seemed to draw me 
more closely to liim in friendly sympath}^ than could 



262 DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 

have been expected from a first intercourse of so 
short duration. The theme of the Doctor's address 
on Monday was, ' The proper sphere of woman.' 
Some of the sentiments he advanced were unpop- 
ular with a lady of Memphis who had been selected 
as essayist before the Society of Alumnx. This 
essay was read on Tuesday, and the writer had 
added to it quite a severe animadversion upon the 
positions taken by Dr. Green. The Doctor was a 
man of too much politeness and gallantry to take 
up the gauntlet thrown down by a lady, yet it was 
evident that he was annoyed by the asperity of the 
assault. My address, which followed on the next 
day, had for its theme, ' Woman and her proper cult- 
ure,' and the Doctor was extremely gratified to find 
in it a fall vindication of every position of his which 
had been assailed. So precisely did my line of re- 
mark traverse that of the essayist's that it was hard 
to convince one that it had not been pursued with 
special reference to hers. 

"I again met with Dr. Green at the General Con- 
ference of 1870, held at Memphis, of which we Avere 
both members. He was then in his proper sphere, 
and no one exerted a greater influence upon the de- 
liberations of the Conference than he. I was asso- 
ciated with him on two very important committees, 
and to him were due, in a great measure, the satis- 
factory conclusions to which they arrived. He was 
very clear in his cognitions, and precise in his state- 
ments. His argumentation in debate was logical, 
and his bearing toward his antagonists perfectly 
respectful. 



DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 263 

"But to me the most interesting' association I had 
with Dr. Green was in the inception and establish- 
ment of the Vanderbilt University. It was remark- 
able that so deep an interest was taken in an insti- 
tution of high grade by one who had not in early 
life enjoyed the advantages of scholastic training. 
On one occasion, in a public address to the l^orth 
Mississippi Conference, he feelingly alluded to the 
difficulties and embarrassments with which he had to 
contend in his early ministry, growing out of a want 
of mental culture, and expressed his determination 
to spend the rest of his life in a struggle to procure 
for the young ministers of the Church the advan- 
tages of which he had so sorely felt the need. 

"I went to the iirst convention held in relation 
to the establishment of a university, as a delegate 
from the North Mississippi Conference, with no ex- 
pectation of being able to carry forward the enter- 
prise in the,depressed condition of the country; and 
when, at the opening of the convention, an inter- 
change of opinion was generally had, it was obvi- 
ous that a great majority of the members shared in 
this despondency. 

"But Dr. Green took a more hopeful view of the 
matter, and expressed very decidedly his opinion in 
favor of the practicability of the scheme, and of 
setting about the execution of it at once. He 
thought the money could be raised; and this opin- 
ion, held by so experienced and successful a finan- 
cier, and by one so extensively and thoroughly 
acquainted with the people, inspired the whole 
bodv with confidence, and resulted in the adoption 



264 DR. GREEN AND THE SCHOOLS. 

of resolutions to go forward with the work. The 
whole effort to raise funds w^as devolved upon Dr. 
Green as treasurer, together with his chosen assist- 
ants. In this work he was ardently engaged when, 
in the providence of God, Mr. Yanderbilt became 
the patron and founder of the University, and 
placed its operations upon a safe pecuniary basis. 
'No one rejoiced at this event more heartily than Dr. 
Green; and it is to be regretted that he did not live 
to see the University started upon its career of use- 
fulness. Certain it is that he mainly kept the 
enterprise alive until it was taken up by Mr. Yan- 
derbilt. So that the Church and the country owe 
to the former a debt of gratitude second only to 
that due to the latter." 




4.-8. 
Last Conferences — Sufferings. 

II. GREE^ attended his last General Con- 
ference held in Louisville, Kentucky, May, 
1874. This Avas his tenth General Con- 
ference — three of the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church, and seven of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, South. The quadrennial of 1862 was not 
held, on account of the war. On his return from 
the Hot Springs, just a few weeks before the open- 
ing of the Conference, he was evidently better, and 
so expressed himself. I believe that death nearly 
always allows a partial armistice before the requisi- 
tion is fully served. The clouds for the time break; 
the sun comes out, and the birds sing their sweetest 
songs; the victim looks up and takes hope, but it is 
only a few oUce-hraiiches scattered in the way — the 
setting sun of human life, donning his robes of pur- 
ple hues and crimson -and -gold. My father felt 
better — even felt able to go by himself to the Con- 
ference, that my mother might have an interval of 
rest and recuperation before their return to the Hot 
Springs. He thought it not at all necessary that 
any member of his family should accompany him — 
rejoiced to think that he was able to take care of 
12 (2fi5) 



266 LAST CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS. 

himself. He was deceived : his health rapidly failed. 
He attended, but with great pain, the sessions of 
the Conference, until he could go no more. He 
was entertained by a true and noble friend, Mr. 
Kean, of the Louisville Hotel, who has since sat 
down with his glorified guest in the kingdom of 
lieaven. There were ready hands and willing hearts 
that loved him, and he wanted nothing that this 
world conld furnish. His afflictions did not destroy 
his interest in the Church, as his speeches on music 
and Sunday-schools testify. We will leave to Dr. 
Redford, who, with Mrs. Bedford, so tenderly 
watched over him, to relate the story of his suffer- 
ings. The Doctor says: "I had the pleasure of 
being with him the most of the time during the 
General Conference immediately preceding his 
death. We were quartered together at the Louis- 
ville Hotel, and our rooms were on the same floor, 
and close to each other. We also occupied in the 
Conference-room the same table, and conferred freely 
on all questions before the body. 

"He was confined to his room the greater portion 
of the time, exceedingly feeble, and a great sufi:erer. 
I was with him constantly, and contributed to his 
relief by every means within my power. His last 
appearance in the General Conference was on Mon- 
day, May the 18th. He had been appointed to 
preach on the Sabbath at Chestnut Street (Meth- 
odist) Church, but was not able to leave his room. 
Mrs. Redford watched by his bedside all day. His 
suft'ering was so severe that he felt apprehensive of 
lock-jaw. I was with him until midnight, and on 



LAST CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS. 2(37 

Monday morning reported him to the Conference 
as very ill. A few minutes after I announced his 
illness he entered the Conference. His countenance 
bore the marks of great pain. 

"The question before the Conference was as to 
whether or not the Episcopacy should be strength- 
ened by the election of one or more Bishops. Dr. 
Green, in an able speech, advocated the election of 
one Bishop. This was his last speech, and although 
the Conference did not concur with him, he Avas 
listened to with breathless silence. At the close of 
this speech he left the room. A few minutes later 
I followed him to the hotel, and found him in his 
room, very ill. Painful as was the duty, I commu- 
nicated by telegram the fact of his illness to his 
family, and informed him of what I had done. His 
reply was, 'I am glad you have done so.' That 
night Mrs. Green and his eldest son. Captain Frank 
W. Green, met him at the depot and accompanied 
him home." 

We continue the story of his sufferings by quot- 
ing from the memorial by Dr. Summers: "Dr. Green 
staid with us at the Louisville Hotel, and every thing 
that friends could do for him was done; but before 
the General Conference adjourned he had to return 
to l!Tashville. Here he took part in the obsequies 
of the Rev. F. E. Pitts, who preceded him to the 
spirit-land; and was in the programme for the ob- 
sequies of his friend, the venerable Dr. Maddin, 
which took place June the 21st, but he was not able 
to be present. He had assisted us at the commun- 
ion in McKendree Church the first Sunday in June, 



268 LAST CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS. 

and closed the service after our sermon at night in 
the same church. He expressed himself as greatly 
interested in the discourse — it was on the last judg- 
ment — and in his prayer gave a resume of the ser- 
mon, with remarkable accuracy and great fervor of 
devotion. He also closed the service after Dr. Har- 
grove on the next Sunday, June the 14th, and this, 
we believe, terminated his public labors. A metas- 
tasis of the disease (tetter) to the bowels took place, 
and nothing short of a miracle could stay the hand 
of death. Drs. J. W. and T. L. Maddin, Eve, Me- 
nees, and other physicians — the most eminent of the 
profession — did all that medical skill could do; his 
friends were unceasing in their efforts to aiford re- 
lief, but 'the Lord's appointment is the servant's 
hour,' and that hour had come." 

Besides the home-correspondence, which he never 
neglected, my father while in Louisville remembers 
his young lady correspondent. Miss Annie Ransom. 
He writes (May 2, 1874): ''I am now in the Confer- 
ence-room. The business is going on. We have 
something over two hundred members present, and 
more will no doubt arrive to-day. The Bishops are 
all here, and seemingly in good health. Dr. Pierce 
is here, though he seems to be feeble. I am located 
in good quarters at the Louisville Hotel. Mrs. Red- 
ford had me assigned to a room near the Doctor's, 
so that if I should be sick she could take care of 
me. My wife will not be able to be here. Our 
table consists of Dr. Redford and wife. Dr. Summers, 
wife, and son, which makes us feel very much like a 
familv." 



LAST CONFEREJ^CES — SUFFERINGS. 269 

My father attended the last session of his own 
Conference (the Tennessee) in Franklin, in the au- 
tumn of 1873. He, the Rev. Golman Green, and I, 
roomed together at Dr. Parks's. He seemed to im- 
prove during the Conference, and preached with his 
old energy. He was full of life and hope, and en- 
tertained us with many an anecdote. 

Again the play of pain 
Shoots o'er his features as the sudden gust 
Crisps the reluctant lake, that lay so calm 
Beneath the mountain shadow. 




49. 
His Death and Burial. 

CANE'OT to this day take the word 
''death" between my lips, and bracket it 
to the name of my father. To do this 
might be in accord with the " unities and 
proprieties," but would be a violation of the moral 
affinities and Christian realities. There was so much 
of the bright and so little of the dark, so much of 
hope and so little oi fear, in his life of perfect peace 
that I find, as I think of him, no place for death. 
Every niche in the temple of his life was occupied by 
the dii majores, Faith, Hope, and Charity. 

Stealthily the destroyer did his work, and we 
were stunned when it was accomplished. Why did 
we not know what was so evident to others? Be- 
cause our thoughts of him were not mixed with 
dust. We saw the heralds, but knew them not 
until the dark plumes waved over us, and we stood 
in the presence of the terrible king. 

After his return from the General Conference there 
Avas some improvement for about ten days; then the 
fatal metastasis set in. We did not believe, because 
we did not want to believe. By no member of his 
family was the subject of death mentioned, because 
(270) 



HIS DEATH AND BURIAL. 271 

the mention of it would make such an event prob- 
able, and the bare surmise we fought against. We 
prayed — prayed together and in private — but not 
with him. He asked the visiting brethren to read 
the Scriptures and to pra}^ with him, and talked to 
them freely about the future state, but said nothing 
to his family about death or dying, except incident- 
ally on one occasion. My brother Frank and I 
were standing by his bed; he had just rallied from 
an attack of syncope, and said, " I want you to carry 
me out on a carry-all to ' Greenland;' I want to die 
there." After my brother stated to him that we 
were at the old home, where w^e had spent so many 
happy days together, he seemed satisfied, and said 
no more. 'No doubt the death of his old friends in 
rapid succession — Messrs. Brown, Maddin, and 
Pitts — had depressed him very much. 

There was a marked resemblance between his 
death and that of the Rev. Elisha Carr, who died 
in 1866. Brother Carr, after he realized the fact 
that he must die, had but little to say on the subject 
of religion, and called on no one to pray with him. 
Like my father, he felt that there was nothing more 
to do but to die. His house was in order, and the 
angels stood at the door. 

My father never admitted, during his last illness, 
that he was any better; but his kind heart woukl 
not allow him to afflict his family with his convic- 
tions as to the result. 

That sad afternoon, when he called for writing- 
materials, no explanations w^erc given, before or after. 
He sat up in bed without help, and, in a steady 



272 Ills DEATH AND BURIAL. 

hand, wrote his last will and testament, closing with 
the illuminated lines, " My children, live in peace, 

AND MEET ME IN HEAVEN ! " 

He bore his afflictions with a fortitude that was 
strange to his friends. 

The first intimation I had that he was in immi- 
nent danger was the day before his death. I re- 
marked to him that I would go to my appointment 
and attend to some matters, which would require 
about a half of a day, and return. He looked at 
me steadily, and said not a word. I did not hear, 
but saw, his thoughts. I did not go, and the next 
day, at two o'clock p.m., I saw him die. 

His son-in-law, Capt. Robert P. Hunter, died just 
a week before, at the country-place, which my father 
did not know until he met him in heaven. 

We shall hold in everlasting remembrance the 
brethren Avho visited and prayed with him; also, 
the attending physicians, Drs. T. L. and J. W. 
Maddin, w^ho were so assiduous in their attentions; 
also. Dr. Paul F. Eve, his old neighbor, and his rela- 
tives. Dr. Thomas Menees and Dr. Samuel Jamison. 

We have a precious letter from the now sainted 
Bishop E. S. Janes, of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church. It was written by the Bishop before the 
sad news reached him, two days after my father's 
death. Every s^dlable is a pearl. The memory of 
Bishop Janes is a benison to every Methodist, I^orth 
and South. It may be a small item to insert here; 
but the angels will not object to it. I remember, in 
1846, that Bishop Janes stopped at my father's door, 
and left a package of Ijeautiful red Testaments for 



HIS DEATH AND BURIAL. 273 

the children. Why should you think it strange that 
in my mind the name of Bishop Janes and those 
Testaments go together? The Bishop writes: 

" Round Lake Camp-meeting, i 

"Saratoga County, New York, July 17, 1874, ) 

"Eev. a. L. p. Green, D.D. — Dear Brother: I am 
pained to learn of your severe illness. It occurred 
to me that possibly you might be able to hear a few 
lines read to you without injury. I very much de- 
sire to send you my affectionate greetings. My 
heart most warmly salutes you in the Lord. I re- 
member our former intercourse with great pleasure 
and satisfaction. I have never been alienated from 
my brethren in the South. 

" Our fraternal meeting here is very pleasant, and, 
I think, useful. Bishop Kavanaugh is here, and 
Bishop Doggett is on his way hither. Dr. McFerrin 
has been here, and preached to us lovingly. I am 
quite sure that he and Brother Plummer enjoyed 
their visit, and I know we enjoyed it. They will 
report to you on their return. Dr. Sargent and Dr. 
Poisal are here; they have both preached with much 
acceptance. 

" The Methodist Protestant Church, the Methodist 
Church, the Free Methodist, the African Methodist 
Episcopal Church, the African Zion Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, and both branches of the Methodist 
Church in Canada, are represented at the meeting. 
God is with us in very deed; his salvation in abun- 
dance flows. 

'^0 how I wish you were here! Well, we shall 
12^^ 



274 HIS DEATH AND BURIAL. 

meet in the general assembly and Church of the 
first-born in heaven. I feel that I am nearing the 
eternal home of God's great, and holy, and happy 
family. There will be but one Methodism in heaven ; 
soon there will be but one on earth. Love will con- 
quer. The constraining love of Christ is mighty to 
compel; it will triumph. 

"I fear that I have already wearied you. I pray 
God to give you all needed grace in this suffering 
world, and all the beatitudes of the spirit-world. 

"With Christian regards to your family, I remain 
your loving brother in Jesus, E. S. Janes. 

"P.S. — Bishop Foster is with me, and wishes me 
to express to you his affectionate regards. 

"E. S. J." 

Dr. Summers furnishes the account w^hich fol- 
lows of my father's burial: 

"His life was gentle, and the elements 
So mixed in him that Nature might stand up 
And say to all the world, This was a manl 

"But he is dead! 

"According to his virtue let us use him 
With all respect and rite of burial, 

"And it was so. Dr. Kelley was sent for to the 
country, and arrived in time for the funeral. Drs. 
McFerrin, Sawrie, Hay good, Hanner, and other 
ministers, personal and intimate friends of the de- 
ceased, were absent, and could not be reached. But 
the ministers of the city and neighborhood, includ- 
ing some of other Churches, preceded the cortege 
from the house of mourning to the house of prayer 



HIS DEATH AND BURIAL. 275 

in which he was the first pastor — McKendree 
ChurcL — which he loved so dearly. Devout men, 
official members from the different stations, bore 
him to his burial. The service at the church was 
conducted by Bishop McTyeire, Drs. Kelley, Har- 
grove, Brown, Young, Redford, Warren, and Sum- 
mers — a large congregation being in attendance, 
notwithstanding the rain, as the death of Dr. Green 
had created an almost unprecedented sensation in 
the city. The discourses of Bishop McTyeire and 
Dr. Kelley were beautiful and appropriate; they 
were listened to with profound interest. The serv- 
ice at the grave was impressively read by the Rev. F. 
R. Hill and Dr. R. K. Hargrove. It was the sweet 
sunset hour; and as the dulcet sounds of a song — 
one of the Doctor's favorites — were given forth by 
the choir, one could almost imagine that his spirit 
was present, joining in the refrain about 'the sweet 
fields of Eden,' where he is now roaming with un- 
speakable jo}^ We laid him down in Mt. Olivet 
Cemetery, side by side with his son-in-law, Capt. R. 
P. Hunter, who was interred the Sunday previous. 
There, too, lie the remains of other kindred. There 
is room there for all the family." 

May they be found, no wanderer lost, 
A family in heaven I 




50. 
Testimony of the Brethren. 

E cannot close this record without append- 
ing the "Testimony of the Brethren." 
It is their right and privilege to speak. 
All the lights in the temple of humanity 
will go out when they who love are not permitted 
to speak their loves. I have been taught from a 
child to respect, never to speak evil of, and to give 
place to the brethren. I rejoice that they have sat 
down with me, and assisted so fluently and fully in 
the estimate of my father's life. I am now a child 
again, respectful and obedient, and waiting to hear 
what the brethren shall say. Bishop McTyeire 
comes first: ''And now to speak of his death. 
This I should not characterize as triumphant; it is 
enough to say it was peaceful. There is a difi'er- 
ence according to sovereign grace; and it is not 
always according to eminence in usefulness, or even 
in piety. Some do triumph — they rejoice and are 
exceeding glad in the prospects of the grave; they 
have ecstasies and transports in dying. Our brother 
had not these. The end of this man was peace. 
The psalmist thought that was enough even for the 
perfect and the upright. I sympathize with the 
(276) 



TESTIMONY OF THE BRETHREN. 277 

sentiment of the Hev. Dr. Few, of Georgia, when 
he lay a-dying. A brother sang for him that hymn 
which has this refrain: 

I hope to die shouting, the Lord will provide! 

Said he, 'I don't ask to die that way, but peace- 
fully, as the sun goes down.' So died Dr. Green. 
We had the privilege of more than one prayerful 
intercourse with him. He believed that he was 
n earing the end when others had hope. 

'' ' Doctor, you have done a great deal of preach- 
ing; how does it appear now as you look back on 
it?' There was no remark of self-depreciation, as 
that he might have done it better, or more of it, but 
this was the deliberate reply : ' I am impressed with 
its truth! What I have been preaching is true !' 

"At another time, on leaving to be gone a few 
days in West Tennessee, he intimated a desire that 
I should not go where a message could not reach 
me, as something might happen. All the while he 
expected to die, saying — the visit before my last — 
* My course is run ! ' And yet there was no trepida- 
tion, no fear. He was as serene in the contempla- 
tion of death, and all the realities w^hich death was 
about to unfold, as though the signal had been given 
at the camp-meeting and he was leaving the preach- 
ers'-tent to fill his appointment. Already the sing- 
ing had begun at the stand, and the people had 
gathered, and he was ready. 

"About two o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, 
July 15, 1874, he asked his son Frank to turn him 
on liis side; and without gasping for breath, or 



278 TESTIMONY OF THE BRETHREN. 

death-rattle, or any struggle, he was dead. While 
we lament his taking away, let us be thankful that 
he was ever given." 

Dr. D. C. Kelley speaks: "A week before his 
death, as I was about leaving the city, I asked — con- 
trary to the general directions of physicians — that 
I might see him. I felt that I must hear one more 
utterance from him. To a question, 'Are you suf- 
fering much?' he replied, 'Only physically; there is 
no mental or moral trouble!' 'What is the out- 
look, Doctor?' Answer: 'All beautiful! Not only 
heaven, Christ, and faith are beautiful, but I have 
been thinking to-day of death, and the grave, and 
the grave-yard where a whole family sleep grouped 
together, and this, too, has grown beautiful to me ! ' 
After a pause, he added: 'The gospel we preach is 
true — salvation is for all;' a pause, and then, with 
emphasis: 'But it is all the grace of God!' 

"To those of us who have heard him more than 
a score of times — even in his happiest moments in 
the pulpit — say, 'I love life; I joy to think of eter- 
nal life; I love light and the day-time, but I hate 
night; I do not love death; I hate the grave,' to 
hear him now calmly saying that the sheen of light 
which his faith had shed over his active life was, in 
the hour of need, casting its brightness over the 
grave, was a note of the profoundest triumph; not 
the mere triumph of emotion, but the deeper tri- 
umph of a victorious faith." 

Dr. T. 0. Summers speaks: "Dr. Green is dead! 

The tidings strike a doleful sound 
On our poor heart-strings! 



TESTIMONY OF THE BRETHREN. 279 

We can hardly believe it — we 'cannot make him 
dead.' Yet he is dead. He died on Wednesday 
afternoon, July 15, 1874, at two o'clock. Dr. Eve 
came to our office in the morning and told us that 
he considered him in extremis. In company wdth 
Bishop McTyeire and Doctors Bedford and Young, 
we instantly repaired to the home of Mr. Thomas 
D. Fite, son-in-law of the Doctor's — where he had 
so long lived, and where he was about to die; but 
we could not then have an interview wath him. A 
few hours later Brother W. H. Evans came after us — 
the Doctor was dead! We hastened to the house of 
mourning, where we found Dr. Hargrove, Dr. Eve 
(who, with Dr. John W. Maddin, was present at his 
death), and other friends, w^ith the family. We min- 
gled our sorrows, and tears, and prayers. The 
scene was inexpressibly impressive. 

"A few days before his death we had a pleasant 
interview with him. On remarking to him, 'The 
doctors say you are better — are you better?' he re- 
plied in his usual tone, like Bishop Soule, '!N"o, sir!' 
'Your mind is kept in perfect peace?' 'Yes, sir!' 
He was very feeble, but he conversed with consider- 
able ease, and gave us the cheering assurance that 
all was well. He asked us to unite with him in 
prayer, and he responded very heartily to our peti- 
tions, except such as referred to his recovery. The 
call seems to have been whispered to his heart, and 
he was preparing to remove. 

And leave the dull body below, 
And fly to the regions above. 

"He was himself all through the final scene. 



280 TESTIMONY OF THE BRETHREN. 

During his years of extreme suffering no one ever 
heard him complain or repine. He would converse, 
writQ, preach, and make speeches — do every thing 
the occasion required — and none but his intimate 
friends would suspect there was any thing the matter 
with him, except as there would be an uncontrolla- 
ble effort to relieve himself of the tormenting pain 
which he endured." 

Dr. J. B. McFerrin says : " My last interview with 
him — not long before I left home — was very pleas- 
ant. He was calm, peaceful, resigned, and full of 
hope in view of the immortality of the soul and the 
resurrection of the body. "When I said, 'This 
mortal must put on immortality' (pointing to his 
emaciated frame), he said, 'That is beautiful!' and 
spoke of the resurrection of the body with rapture. 
By faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and by the faith 
vouchsafed to him, he felt that Christ had blessed 
the graves of all his saints, and that he was going 
to rest with his dying Head." 

I remember that in this last interview Dr. McFer- 
rin put a question to my father, as to the future 
state, which he answered by saying, "All is as clear 
as o:lass!" I mention this be6ause it was one of 
his favorite sayings when in health. 

Dr. Young says: "The day before he died, learn- 
ing that I was to leave the city, he sent for me to 
come in. Giving me his hand, he said, 'I wanted 
to say to you that all is right ! ' These were his last 
words to me." 

In the autumn of 1874 a memorial service was 
held in Gallatin, in memory of Messrs. Maddin, 



TESTIMONY OF THE BRETHREN. 281 

Pitts, and Green, by the Tennessee Annual Confer- 
ence. We know that on that occasion even the 
" stranger's eye wept." We extract the last para-, 
graph of the charming official tribute by the Rev. 
James R. Plummer: 

"Dr. Green has gone up from among us! And 
yet it seems we cannot help straining our ears for 
that voice, which has been familiar to us as a Con- 
ference so long. Time and again have we looked 
eagerly around us for that stately form that sat 
among us in such perfect equipoise, commanding 
always our respect; and for that benevolent face 
that always inspired our love. Having understand- 
ing of the times, he will no more tell us what Israel 
ought to do; and yet w^e feel as if he were listening 
to the words we speak." 

The fire has gone out on the hearth; the voices 
of the brethren are hushed; the circle is broken; I 
am alone, and the story of my father's life is ended. 

Are there spirits more blest than the planets of even 
That mount to their zenith, then melt into heaven — 
No waning of fire, no quenching of ray, 
But rising, still rising, when passing away? 



DR. GREEN'S PAPERS, 



The Papees. 



All that follows is not even the moiety of Dr. Green's literary 
productions. If the ground-plan should allow such a superstruct- 
ure, yet Ave do not think it best to insert all of his papers. He was 
a i^reacher, and yet we exclude his published sermons; those Avho 
wish to read them (and they may be read with profit) will find 
them in durable form, preserved in leather. 

With a few exceptions, his "memorials" — a great host — are left 
out; they are good; and yet, who would be sufficient to read them? 
We have consulted only the taste of the general reader, who is fond 
of that which is quaint, humorous, and practical. *■ 

In half a score of letters our attention has been directed to pub- 
lished articles, which we have been unable to find; so there is no 
intentional neglect. 

Waiving the "Papers" — for it would be sacrilege to spoil them — 
we cannot see how any one but a Methodist preacher could afibrd 
to criticise the "Life," as it would be a great labor and poor pay. 
However, we will have this understanding with the critic, aside: If 
he be a man, to examine himself, and be sure that he does not make 
the poor author feel like the hunter whose foot was bitten off by a 
wild jack — not the loss of the foot, or death, but the thing that bit 
it off, was the trouble. If the critic be a woman, we shall sit down 
and be sad or glad, according to the nature of the case. 

(284) 



DR. GREENES PAPERS. 



STORIES. 



Donor and the Ditcher. 

IT was night, when the orphan Marks was returning 
from his labor, with his spade on his shoulder, while 
dark, thick clouds hung upon the sky. Alone, and 
bending his weary steps to his humble hut, he had been 
taking a dreamy review of the past, and throwing his 
thoughts into the sunless future. He had nearly 
reached a point where the road crosses a deep ravine, 
on rather a high fill, some two miles from the city of 
N., when he heard just before him hurried voices — soon 
after, the rattling of wheels, and struggling like that of 
horses entangled in harness. A few steps brought him 
to a point where, from the light of his lantern, he saw, 
down the bank, what seemed to be some sort of a car- 
riage, which had been upset, while the horses were 
struggling to free themselves. He descended hastily'' 
to the spot, and found two ruffians dragging a man, 
who seemed to be rather advanced in years, from under 
the carriage, while the old man was calling upon them 
for God's sake to spare his life. Marks saw at once 
that the old man had fallen into the hands of robbers; 



286 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

but by the free use of his spade he soon dispersed the 
robbers, and saved the old man, whom he assisted in 
restoring his carriage to a traveling condition again. 
After the old gentleman had expressed many thanks for 
the services that were rendered him, and inquired of 
Marks his name and place of abode, the two strangers 
bade each other good-night, the traveler to pursue his 
way, and Marks going to his obscure abode. This cir- 
cumstance soon passed away from the mind of Marks, 
and his thoughts returned again to those subjects that 
pertained more particularly to his helpless condition. 

Three nights after this event, at about eleven o'clock, 
when the fire had well-nigh disappeared from the hum- 
ble hearth of Marks, and he was about to drag his weary 
limbs to his scanty pallet, to seek that refreshment in 
sleep which was necessary to prepare him for the labors 
of the next day, suddenly his door opened, and there 
stood before him a tall figure, in the costume of a com- 
mon citizen, but wearing a youthful mask, who stood 
for some moments contemplating Marks with a most 
searching look. At length the stranger broke silence 
by saying, "Mr. Marks, your sorrows, your poverty, 
and your very secret thoughts, are known to me; for I 
have been your unknown hearer, and that God who 
hears the young ravens when they cry has directed me 
to come to you this night. When I was aj^proaching 
your door I heard what seemed to me to be conversation 
within; and as I wished to have an interview with you 
alone, I thought I would remain without, unnoticed, 
until your visitor might depart; but I soon discovered 
that there was but one voice, and that which I took at 
'■first to be a conversation was but an unconscious ex- 
pression in words of the thoughts which were strug- 
gling through your mind ; and to show you that I was 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 287 

an attentive hearer, I will repeat what you said, or at 
least so far as I am able to recollect it. The first thing 
that I distinctly heard was, ^How hard is my lot!' and 
then you proceeded as follows: 'Mine has been a 
doomed fjimily. My father was a ditcher before me. 
Yes, I can see his bent form this moment, leaning over 
his spade, with the perspiration standing on his pale 
brow, and his thin and whitened locks matted with 
sweat and clay, and his old, seared hands trembling, 
while he would rest for a moment upon his spade. I 
also hear his moan now, when his aged limbs would 
complain at night of having been too heavily taxed by 
the labors of the day. But he was honest, and the 
little bread that he did eat was obtained truly by the 
sweat of his brow; yet, kind father, I never heard you 
complain of your lot. And my good old mother — how 
anxious you were ever to have something to refresh 
him when he would return from the toils of the day! 
and I do not know but you were happy. And when 
Sunday came, I remember your efforts to appear de- 
cent at church, and how cheerfully you accepted those 
seats prepared for the accommodation of the unoffend- 
ing poor; and I never heard you complain, only when 
age had impaired the hearing of my father, he said 
he would like to be able to have a seat nearer to the 
minister, so as to enable him to hear the sermon. 
Neither did you express fears on my account, farther 
than that it was to be feared that my physical strength 
would not be sufficient to enable me to succeed as a 
ditcher. But, kind parents, your labor is over, and you 
are at rest; and though your coffins are without pall or 
varnish, and no proud monument marks the place of 
your slumbers, yet your bed is as soft, and your slumbers 
as sweet, as those of any who repose under the finest 



288 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 



marble; and though there are none on earth to guard 
the spot where you rest in hope, except myself, yet the 
angel of the resurrection shall watch over your dust 
till that day. The last words of my father were, "Be 
honest, my boy; I have no legacy to leave you but my 
spade." And this is the same room in which you lived/ 
Then your thoughts seemed to turn upon your own 
case, and you said, 'If by my labor I could only pro- 
cure a support, food and raiment, that would be all 
that I could wish or ask for; but the number of labor- 
ers has increased, and prices have fallen, and labor 
fails to bring me a support; and when affliction or old 
age shall come upon me, luho will care for me then? ' A 
sigh followed; you ceased to speak; and finding that 
you were just about to lay yourself down to rest, I en- 
tered your door." 

"Well," said Marks, "you have heard all; and if you 
are poor, you will know how to appreciate it; and 
should you be rich, think not of it again ; for what you 
have heard, kind stranger, is but the expression of those 
feelings common to the poor." 

The stranger replied by saying, "Marks, I came not 
to spy out your poverty or mock your distress; but I 
came on an important errand. I have one question to 
ask you, and I wish you to be careful in your answer. 
Should you answer me correctly, it shall be well ; but if 
falsely, then all is lost. I want to know what is need- 
ful for you in the way of support. You said awhile 
ago that if by your labor you could procure food and 
raiment, that would be all that you wanted. Now, tell 
me your real wants, and they shall be supplied;' but 
should you ask for more, then you will forfeit my protec- 
tion. The name by which you shall know me is Bonorr 

To this Marks replied, "I can obtain by my daily 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 289 

labor two shillings per day, which will amount to 
twelve shillings per week. Of this two shillings are 
required for rents, two for fuel, and two for clothing, 
which leaves me six shillings; this amount furnishes 
me with one full meal per day, during the working 
days, and I only have some refreshments upon the 
Sabbath, when during the week I partake, once or oft- 
ener, of but a piece of a meal. Had I seven shillings 
over and above my wages, then I would have two meals 
a day for each laboring day, and one on the Sabbath. 
But I would not ask for too much. It may not be that 
the meal on the Sabbath-day is absolutely necessary for 
me. You will judge of that yourself, dear Donor." 

Donor replied that the demands were reasonable, and 
that he should have the seven shillings, which he forth- 
with paid over to Marks, and took his leave, saying, " I 
will see you again, one week from this night. See that 
you are here at that time, and alone." 

After the departure of this mysterious stranger, 
Marks felt for some moments that he was a happy 
man. "Now there is before me," he said, "an assur- 
ance of competency — two meals per day, also one on 
the Sabbath." This good fortune so overpowered him 
with joy that he found it difficult to get to sleej); but 
before the week passed by Marks thought he ought to 
have said something to Donor about fuel, as he only 
had about half a supply; "and then ought not I to have 
a bit of candle to give me light to see how to take my 
evening meal, for which one candle would be a week's 
suppl}^?" and he began to wish the hour to roll round 
for Donor's return. 

At the appointed minute Donor appeared again, and 
inquired of Marks if he had all that he needed. 

Marks replied by saying, " My dear Donor, I thought 
13 



290 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

that it was needful for inc to have an increase of fuel, 
as I am often shivering with cold, and have not enough 
even to prepare my food; and a bit of candle to give 
me light while taking my evening meal." 

"Marks, these things are needful, and you shall have 
them. How much will be necessary?" 

"Three shillings more," said Marks. 

"Here is ten shillings," said Donor; "is that all you 
need?" 

" That is all," said Marks. 

"Seven days hence, at this hour, I will see you again. 
Eemember that I am to give you all you need, and no 
more. Take care always what you ask for." 

After the departure of Donor, Marks felt for some 
hours that he was supplied with a competency. "I 
have two meals for the laboring days, and one for the 
Sabbath, enough fuel for a fire every night, and a can- 
dle to eat my evening meal by." But Donor had not 
been long gone before Marks, when about to retire, 
thought it was a pity that he had failed to mention to 
iiim something about his scanty bed; for in order that 
a laboring man shoukl be comfortable, it is important 
that he should have a bed to rest upon, and his was so 
scant a pallet that it deserved not the name of a bed. 
So, on the return of Donor, he told him the nature of 
his wretched bed, and said that it was absolutely neces- 
sary that he should have a bed to rest upon, which 
Donor readily agreed to, and told him to fix his price, 
which Marks estimated at twenty shillings. This 
Donor gave him, together with the ten shillings which 
was his weekly supply, and asked him if there was 
any thing more necessary, reminding him at the same 
time of the danger of asking for that which lo did not 
need. Mnrks declared that was all. 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 291 

He soon procured his bed, and having food, and fuel, 
and light, felt for several hours that he was well off. 
But at length he remembered that all the while he had 
forgotten his clothes; that he had none at all save 
such as were common to ditchers, and not at all suitable 
to go to church or take a walk on a Sabbath evening; 
and that the Sabbath-day might be made a blessing to 
him, it was necessary that he should have a Sunday 
suit, which Donor granted, and gave him three pounds 
for that purpose. In a short time Marks appeared in 
his suit of fine clothes, which created in him a new 
class of feelings. He at once felt inclined to be seen, 
which he never before desired, and soon began to make 
the acquaintance of j^oung gentlemen whose society he 
had never before enjoyed, having always previously 
been confined to the society of day-laborers. Mingling 
of evenings with j^oung men of pleasure, he heard them 
talk of the theater, opera, ball, and other places of 
amusement, and at once felt a desire to know some- 
thing of these to him unknown fountains of pleasure; 
and he sighed, and said within himself that man 
needed that which would make him happy, and that 
happiness must be a stranger unless he could be able 
to spend an evening or two in the week with young 
people, at some places of amusement; for a man has 
eyes and ears as well as an appetite for food; and that 
every one should see and hear a little of what is going 
on in the great world around us; and though he had 
food enough for himself, he ought to have something to 
set before a friend who might call to see him — and he 
anxiously awaited the return of Donor. 

At the appointed time Donor was there, and, seeing 
that Marks did not look so happy as he would have 
liked to see him, inquired into the cause of his apparent 



292 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

gloom, and wished to know if there was any thing 
Avhich he needed; to which Marks replied by saying, 
"M}^ dear Donor, in order to he happy it is necessnry 
that I should have society; and as I have to receive 
those on Avhom I call, it will be necessary, first, that I 
should have a few shillings to spend of evenings, and 
also something to improve my stores, in order that I 
may be able to set something before my friends, should 
any chance to call on me." 

"These things are necessary, Marks, or at least you 
think so, and you shall have them; but tell me the 
amount." 

"Two shillings of an evening, twice a week, for 
places of amusement, and four per week in addition to 
my stores." This amount, together with the previous 
appropriations, were counted down to Marks, and 
Donor, reminding him of the conditions upon which 
he was to bestow his favors, took his leave. 

This week was a comparatively happy one with 
Mari<s. He spent one evening at the exchange, an- 
other at the restaurant, and it turned out that two of 
Marks's new acquaintances visited him, which made 
him feel sensibly that there was no sort of agreement 
between his Sunday suit and his furniture. He had no 
chairs, no table, no comforts; and unless he could get 
some furniture for his house, it was vain to put on fine 
clothes. 

So, on Donor's next visit, Marks laid these thino-s 
before him, saying, "My dear Donor, you see the empty 
condition of this house. I must have chairs, a table, 
and some table-furniture; and then my cooking uten- 
sils are so scant, and this earthen floor so cold ; and, 
moreover, there is no place about the house to keep my 
Sunday suit from dust and dirt, and unless one can 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 293 

have his house comfortable, every thing else goes for 
nothing." 

"Truly," said Donor, "these things are necessary; 
make out your hill.'' Fifty pounds was found to be suf- 
ficient, and the amount was paid over. 

Marks was for several days very much interested in 
procuring furniture for his house. He bought a table, 
some chairs, an armoire, and such other things as were 
found necessary. But before the week was past he 
discovered that his house was not in keeping with his 
furniture, and, as his landlord would not repair it, that 
it was absolutely necessary he should have an appro- 
priation for the purpose of making certain improve- 
ments. It must have a new roof, the doors and windows 
must be repaired, and considerable paint would be re- 
quired to bring it up to any thing like a decent appear- 
ance. 

So when Donor returned, he found Marks quite 
unhappy on account of the uncomfortable condition 
of his house. He went into a long detail of the ruin 
Avhich would of necessity follow, of his furniture, and, 
in fact, of every thing in the house, unless he could 
have it repaired. Donor did not object to making the 
improvements, and at once estimated the amount which 
would be required for the purpose at one hundred 
pounds, which sum was put into the hands of Marks, 
who soon called in the mechanics, and had his house 
thoroughly repaired. 

During the time that the improvements were going 
on Marks seemed to be greatly delighted, and his de- 
mands upon Donor were not much increased for several 
weeks. At length the repairs were completed, and 
Marks, when he looked upon his armoire, chairs, table, 
and the improved and comfortable condition of his 



294 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

house, thought he was now prepared to live. He could 
spend an evening now and then at places of amuse- 
ment; and as his house was, to say the least of it, re- 
spectable, and he had such additions to his stores as 
to enable him to entertain a friend occasionally, he 
supposed himself happy. But the contentment of 
Marks did not last long. Having arisen above the 
condition of the common ditcher in his circumstances, 
and having occasionally mingled with young men of 
pleasure, of evenings, at places of amusement, he soon 
felt the loneliness of his situation when his house was 
clear of visitors, and concluded, after all, the only way 
to be happy was to have a companion. On the return 
of Donor, with some degree of embarrassment he made 
known to him his desires, saying that he had thought 
much on the subject, and that it was a matter of judg- 
ment with him, as well as feeling, asserting at the same 
time that we arc social beings, and that if we cannot 
get that kind of society which is suitable to us, we are 
too apt to fall into bad company; that home had be- 
come dull and jirksome to him; and, worse than all, 
that he was contracting the habit of going out too often 
of an evening in search of society, and that it would 
be much better for him to have such attractions at 
home as to make it jn-eferable to all other places; and 
then he would no longer feel lonely and restless, but 
w^ould make his house a little paradise. Donor agreed 
with him, and said that it was not good for man to be 
alone, and that he should look out for some person 
suitable to his years, education, and temporal condition, 
to make him a wife. "And there are many plain, in- 
dustrious, virtuous young ladies who would readily 
connect their interest with yours." 

"My dear Donor," said Marks, "forgive me if I am 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 295 

Avrong; but I must say to you that those plain, indus- 
trious girls of whom you speak, although they might 
be able to keep house for me, and cook, and wash, and 
be true to me, yet a man who has seen a little of the 
world, and has had a little taste of fjishion and what 
the world calls style, would never be satisfied with such 
a one as you speak of. She would not be able to pre- 
side at my table when my friends might call to see me; 
for you must know that since I have gotten my new 
furniture, and the repairs done upon my house, with 
my suit of clothes, I am no longer visited by ditchers, 
but by young gentlemen of taste and pleasure; and 
yon must know, my dear sir, that it would be a source 
of mortification to me for my wife not to know Avhat 
my guests might mean when they should speak of soiree, 
or opera, or other subjects that might come up in con- 
versation. So you see. Donor, that such as you recom- 
mend would not suit me at all." 

"Well," said Donor, "make your selection, and then 
I will judge of the propriety of the connection." 

"Forgive me." said Marks, "when I tell you I have 
already made my choice. Miss Rue Chaftan, of all the 
ladies in the world — in my judgment there is none 
equal to her. There is so much grace in her motion, 
such a smile always playing on her beautiful face; and 
she dresses so neatly, and converses so freely and flu- 
ently. I am told she understands French, and can 
dance the polka to perfection, and to see her waltzing 
would make your heart ache ; and then she is acquainted 
with all the young gentlemen, far and near. Ah, if I 
could only call her my own, I should be the happiest 
man in the world! and while I think it necessary that 
I should marry, I think at the same time that it is 
equally necessary that Miss Rue should be the lady." 



296 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

"What evidence, Marks," said Donor, "have you 
that you can gain her hand?" 

"Pardon me when I tell j^ou that she is fairly in 
market, and hiis been for some time; and it is pretty 
well understood by the knowing ones that her father 
has outlived his income, and is at this time greatly 
pressed in his business, and is ambitious to keep up 
appearances; and Miss Rue is a check which five thou- 
sand pounds would honor. If I had that amount at 
present to loan to Mr. Chaftan, then it would be an 
easy matter to negotiate for his daughter. For though 
he loves his daughter, yet his pride is equal to his love; 
and it is my opinion, if a young man of decent apjoear- 
ance could loan the father five thousand, the contract 
for the daughter would not be hard to make." 

Donor greatly doubted the propriety of the measure, 
and said that if it was left to him to select a lady he 
would choose quite a different one, and that five thou- 
sand pounds was a large sum. "But," said he, "as I 
have promised to supply your w^ants, Marks, and as you 
want a wife, and as Miss Rue is the person, and no one 
else, you must have the amount." 

Soon after, this sum was offered by Marks to Mr. 
Chaftan, on ver}" liberal terms. Mr. Chaftan gladly 
accepted the offer, and appeared very anxious to re- 
ward young Marks for his kindness. But Marks refused 
to acknowledge any obligation farther than that it 
would afford him great pleasure to become a little better 
acquainted with Mr. Chaftan 's very interesting fiimily, 
and especially Miss Rue. The thought at once burst 
upon the mind of Mr. Chaftan that it might be possible, 
through Rue, to form such a connection with Mr. Marks 
as to make the five thousand a common family fund. 
Though Mr. Marks is deficient in education, and want- 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 297 

ing to some extent in manners and refinement, yet what 
is a little education or manners when one has need of 
five thousand, pounds? That amount of money is not 
picked up at corners of the streets every day; and 
Eue would soon become accustomed to him, at any rate. 
So reasoned Mr. Chaftan with himself, and, bowing and 
smiling, he said to Mr. Marks that he would take great 
pleasure in seeing him at his house at any time. A 
special invitation soon followed, and young Mr. Marks 
was a constant visitor at the house of Mr. Chaftan. 

Many were the conjectures of the acquaintances of 
Mr. Chaftan, with respect to the signs of the times. 
Marks did not fill the eye of Eue; but she soon learned 
from her sage father that the silly notions of women 
were not to be regarded, and the objections that she 
found to Marks were not worth notice. Though he has 
not trained his goatee with taste, nor understands the 
graceful method of placing his cigar between his teeth, 
and cannot talk with the fluency of some young men, 
yet the five thousand pounds — there is reality. Matters 
moved on for some time rather mysteriously, so far as 
the knowledge of the neighbors was concerned; yet it 
so turned out that it was not long before Miss Eue 
Chaftan and Mr. Marks were united in the holy estate 
of matrimony, and Marks considered himself the hap- 
piest man in the w^orld. The husband of so pure, so 
lovely, and so beautiful a creature — these were his 
waking thoughts; but when asleep he would dream 
that she was an angel, and that he had been translated 
to some sunny clime, where the birds always sing, and 
the glory of spring lasted all the year. But the time 
came at last when Marks and his beloved Eue were to 
go home and make themselves acquainted with the 
more stern realities of life, Eue knowing nothing more 
13* 



298 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

of Marks's condition, all the while, than that she had 
heard hints from her father of five thousand pounds. 
When they were approaching the small habitation of 
Marks, Eue asked, with more than ordinary interest, 
^^Is this your house f "Yes," was the laconic reply of 
Marks. ''What! that little hut?" Marks was silent. 
By this time the door-way was passed, and Marks and 
his fair bride were in his own habitation. Eue cast a 
hasty glance around the room, and, with rather a won- 
dering look, exclaimed again, '■'■And is this the place where 
you expect me to live?'^ Marks, with a low and subdued 
tone, said, ''Yes, my love, this is our house." 

"Don't call me love!" said Eue; "better call me your 
slave. "Where are your servants, your drawing-room, 
your chambers, your store-room, 3'our garden ? And 
1 must live in this hut, with its door and windows as 
contracted as a jirison, the floor as cold as a cellar, the 
ceiling crowded down on one's head, no carpet on the 
floor, while the furniture is meager and out of date, 
and poor at that! A7id have I come to this?'' and burst- 
ing into a flood of tears, she fell into a seat, and seemed 
almost overcome with grief and anger. 

Poor Marks was at his wits' end. A crisis had come 
up for which he was wholly unprepared,. His house, 
though humble, had been made quite comfortable by 
various repairs, in his estimation; and what to say or 
do he did not know. Hour after hour passed away, 
and still Eue continued to weep, and when she could 
be provoked to speak, it was only some such expres- 
sions as, "I have come to a pretty pass — housekeeper, 
cook, washer-woman, slave! Eue Chaftan! — yes, Eue 
Chaftan! What could my father have been thinking 
about?" Her indignation hero seemed to claim the 
ascendant, and turning her head toward her confounded 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 299 

husband, she said, "Marks, or whatever your name 
may be, will you be so good as to tell me where we are 
to lodge a friend? Where is the bed, the chamber? and 
where is your kitchen, 1 should like to know? And 
what arrangement is made for an evening ride? My 
parents ought to have waited till I was dead before 
they buried me." 

Marks tried to comfort her by telling her that he 
would take upon himself the laborious part of the 
work about the house; and as there were but two of 
them, it would not require much to support them, and 
they could live in hope of better days. With this he 
began to prepare something for his beloved and heart- 
broken Eue to eat. He made a little tea and prepared 
some toast; yet with all his persuasion he could not 
prevail on her to take a particle; but, continuing to 
weep until she was overcome, she fell into a troubled 
sleej). Now Marks had time to think, and while he sat 
near her, and looked upon her troubled face, and heard 
the sigh that broke away from her heart, and contem- 
plated her flowing robes, her delicate white hand set 
Avith rings, and her light and fairy form, he was forced 
to the conviction that whatever might have been the 
designs of nature with regard to her, she certainly was 
not suited to the kind of life which she would have to 
live to be his wife; and though he loved her, yet it was 
evident that he had made a capital blunder, and the 
advice of Donor came upon his mind with great force. 
"I ought to have thought of something else besides 
presiding at the head of my table while guests were at 
my house, and the trifling aff'air of light conversation. 
What a fool I was that I did not think of sweeping, 
scouring, washing, cooking! and farther, that I had no 
means of procuring fine robes and carriages. But 



300 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

this was all overlooked. I could have found among 
those in humbler life a pretty face, a pure heart, and a 
sound mind — one who would have loved me and thought 
this house a comfortable home; and while I would 
have borne my portion of the cares and trials of life, 
she would cheerfully have borne hers, and we would 
have mutually labored for and loved each other. But 
it is too late to think of these things now; I shall tr}^ 
to learn of her, when she awakes from her slumbers, 
what would satisfy her for the present, and when I 
see my friend Donor I shall lay the case before him; 
because my own wants, which he. has promised to 
supply, are now the wants of my wife ; for unless a 
wife loves her husband, she is a curse instead of a 
blessing." 

Eue at last awoke, and looking around her with the 
vacant stare of a maniac for a moment, sighed, and 
said, with a conquered tone of voice, "Well, it is done, 
and I cannot help it." This state of despair seemed to 
give him more pain than did her words of contempt; 
for he feared the effect of a settled melanchol3^ He 
spoke to her in the tenderest tones, and, thinking he had 
gained upon her feelings, aimed to take her by the hand ; 
but she recoiled at his touch, as thougli it had been 
that of a serpent's, and withdrew her hand. He told 
her that he had a friend who, without fee or reward, 
would help him when he had absolute need, and as his 
wants were hereafter to be the wants of his wife, if 
she would but tell him what she at present most de- 
sired, he would try and get that desire gratified. To 
this she replied by saying, "If I have to live with 
you^ I want some place to live in, and not in this dun- 
geon." 

On that night, at eleven o'clock, Donor paid him a 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 301 

visit. He wished him the happiness common to those 
who have recently connected themselves in marriage. 
Eue had by this time sunk into a deep sleep, and Marks 
had gently raised her from the chair and laid her upon 
the bed without awakening her. He pointed to her, 
and said to Donor, "Speak low; I do not wish her to 
be aroused from her slumber, at least until our conver- 
sation shall close." 

"What ails you?" said Donor; "your appearance is 
that of one in deep distress. I thought to have found 
all joy and gladness." 

"I have erred, Donor," said Marks, "in not taking 
your advice. I ought to have married a woman suited 
to the kind of life which the wife of Marks w^ould have 
to live, but I married one brought up to a life of ease and 
pleasure, who in every thing that relates to the reali- 
ties of life is a perfect child. Her parents taught her 
neither to know nor to do any thing save that w^hich 
belongs to fashion and amusement, and she finds her- 
self wholly unprepared for her present position." 

"Fatal error," said Donor, "wnth but too many silly 
parents in this world, who train up their children like a 
shade plant. Where the parents have fortunes for 
their children, and the absolute necessit}^ does not 
exist on the part of the child to attend to the rougher 
ends of labor, it is an easy matter to leave off such 
things; but when the child is reared in idleness and 
extravagance, and there is no fortune to sustain them 
in such a course of life, th 03^ are soon or late thrown 
upon the world utterly helpless." 

"I would not care," said Marks, "for the helpless- 
ness of my wife," pointing to the bed, "if she were 
only satisfied with her condition. I know how to toil; 
these hands have wielded the spade too long for me to 



302 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

dread labor. "Willingly would I take upon myself, be- 
sides my own portion of labor, all the rougher service 
about the house, if she would only be happy, and love 
me. But the error in her education is double: first, 
she does not seem to think that love can exist any- 
where but in a fine house; and in the next place, that 
labor is degrading. Now, Donor, you see my condi- 
tion: I have a wife, and she does not love me; without 
her love I am a miserable man. Her last intimation 
before falling asleep was that if she was to live with 
me she must have a house to live in. Now, is it not 
necessary for me to have a fine house?" 

"It would seem so," said Donor; "but I am not will- 
ing that you should spend any more on this rented 
room; you had better purchase one already built. So 
here are three thousand pounds; and you will find in 
the city of N., street L, No. 102, a very lovely build- 
ing for sale. Go, on to-morrow, you and your wife; 
let her taste be consulted, and if she like the house, 
purchase it. Here is also one pound more, which will 
procure a conveyance." 

At this Donor took leave. Marks sat by her bedside 
till morning. When she awoke she seemed a little 
better composed, though her sleep had been greatly 
troubled by feverish dreams. Her countenance was 
pale, and her eyes languishing. He told her that he 
had a present for her, and showed her the check for 
three thousand pounds, which his good angel had fur- 
nished him during the night, to buy her a fine house; 
and that the fine new building. No. 102 L street, was 
for sale, and that if she should be pleased with it, it 
would be theirs before sunset. She said it was one of 
the most beautiful residences in the city, of the latest 
style, and that she admired it Avhen in course of erection. 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 303 

"And that is going to be ours, is it^ dear?^' she said, 
and smiled^ and kissed him. The sun was about rising, 
and truly it was sunrise to his poor heart; for, though 
he pitied, he tenderly loved her. Some breakfost was 
prepared by himself, which he thought no hardship; 
and Rue now partook with him, which refreshed her 
very much, and she complimented him considerably for 
being a good cook. He soon procured a cab, and a ride 
of two miles brought them to the contemplated resi- 
dence, which being just completed, and built with an 
eye to taste and convenience, looked beautiful. Rue 
ran uj) and down the stair-way and through the rooms 
with a joyous heart and buoyancy of spirits, which 
would have led one to suppose that she had never 
tasted of grief, and did not know what tears meant. 
The house was purchased, and arrangements made forth- 
with to move to it, and having but little to remove, it 
was soon accomplished; and the pound handed him by 
Donor was sufficient to pay the expense of removing. 
But just so soon as they were settled in their new 
home, other and new difficulties presented themselves. 
Rue wished to know where the furniture was to come 
from for their new house; that she could not see what 
use there could be in a fine house unless it was fur- 
nished, and Marks had to acknowledge that his little 
bed, second-rate armoire, and common chairs, made but 
a poor show in the new house; and he longed for Donor 
to return, that he might lay this matter before him; 
and, in despite of all that he could do, Rue became quite 
unhapi^y again, in looking at the naked walls and 
empty rooms. But at length Donor came, and Marks 
hastened to lay the subject before him, telling him the 
happy effect it had on the spirits of Rue when they got 
to their new house, until she discovered that he liad 



304 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

nothing to furnish it with; "for though I thought my 
furniture was sufficient for the room I occupied," said 
Marks, "yet it makes worse than no impression on this 
fine house. Indeed, Eue says that she does not know 
that she can make any use of such stuff." 

Donor readily agreed that there should always be a 
fitness in things, and that the furniture should be in 
keeping with the house; "and by the time I shall come 
again," said he, "you will make out a bill of the arti- 
cles necessary, and then I will furnish you the means 
to pay for them." And Donor took his leave. 

Marks was not long in laying the matter before Rue, 
but reminded her of the conditions upon which he re- 
ceived favors from Donor, and cautioned her to take 
care that she did not require more than was absolutely 
necessary. With these conditions apparently fairly un- 
derstood, she commenced making out the bill. "Well, 
in the first place, this house must be carpeted down 
stairs and up." 

"What is the use," said Marks, "of carpeting the 
whole house, when there are but two of us?" 

"But two of us, indeed! People who live in as fine a 
house as this will be sure to have company. And if 
some of my friends were to call on me, I should die 
with mortification to have to put them in an uncar- 
peted room. The rooms have to be carpeted, and it is 
useless to spend any more words on that point; and as 
to the quality, we will make three-ply answer for the 
chambers, but the parlors must be Brussels. The 
chambers must be furnished all alike. Let us make 
out the furniture for one room, then it will be easy to 
compute the amount. Well, first, a mahogany bed- 
stead, with furniture suitable to winter and summer, 
wash-stand, press, dressing-bureau, armoire^ and six 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 305 

chairs, together with a carpet. Other smaller matters 
we will attend to after awhile. Now, there are five of 
them, and you can easily estimate what they will cost. 
]^ow for the parlors. Well, these blocks between the 
windows were intended for mirrors; and unless you 
get them of sufficient size to fill the blocks, the rooms 
will always look unfinished. Then, near the sliding- 
(loors there must be a center-table and lamp. On 
the mantels there must be gondolas, and in the hall 
there must be a chandelier. Then, there will have to 
be four sofas, eight ottomans, two divans, four easy- 
chairs, one reception -chair, with two sets of the regu- 
lar size. The sofiis, ottomans, divans, and chairs, 
should all be of plush or cut velvet, and I think royal 
purple would be a beautiful color. 0! I had like to 
have forgotten the door-bell and plate, with the neces- 
sary engraving, which is very important. Now, what 
shall we have in the hall? let me see — a hat-rack, set- 
tees, and suitable mats. Now, none of these can be 
dispensed with." 

On the return of Donor the bill was laid before him, 
and though he seemed to think that it was rather a 
large one, yet he gave a draft for the amount; and 
while they Avere visiting the Avarerooms and stores, and 
having the various articles carried home, and each put 
in its place, Rue seemed to be perfectly haj^py; and 
everything considered, this was a happy week, though 
Marks had to act the part of housekeeper and cook. 
But the furniture was not more than stored away by 
the upholsterer, when Eue discovered that there were 
many things overlooked. There was no suitable cook- 
ing apparatus, no table nor table-furniture suitable to 
such a house. "And even if we iiad these things," 
said TJue, "I should like to know who is to cook, and 



306 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

keep this house in order. I hope, Mr. Marks, that you 
do not think that your wife is to attend to these things. 
AYho is to entertain your company, I should like to 
know? You see that we must have servants and those 
other things that I have mentioned." 

As a new class of wants presented themselves, Marks, 
in his turn, became thoughtful; for he had drawn so 
heavily on Donor that he feared the consequences of a 
new demand. But something had to be done. His 
weekly supply also was only contemplated for one; and 
as from the time he commenced visiting the house of 
Mr. Chaftan he had ceased to spend evenings else- 
where, and as his visits there did not cost him any 
thing, the little saving in that way had enabled him to 
keep up. But now his weekly stores were out, and, as 
he had not had a spade in his hand from the date of 
his marriage, something must be done; and what to do 
he did not know, but concluded he would bring the 
whole affiiir before Donor, on his next visit. So Donor, 
on his return, instead of finding Marks happy, as he ex- 
pected, with his new house finely furnished, saw that ho 
was in great trouble. Donor inquired after the cause 
of this distress. Marks said to him, "My dear Donor, 
permit me now to explain to you my condition. JSiot- 
withstanding we have a fine house, well furnished to 
the eye, yet the means of support are wanting. Wo 
have no stores, nothing to cook, and no person to cook 
any thing if we had provision — no suitable table or ta- 
ble-furniture; and you remember that the appropria- 
tion made to me was but for one, and even then a part 
of my weekly supply was the reward of my labor; and 
since I was married I have not had a spade in my hand, 
and what am I to do about ditching noiDf Here Marks 
seemed to be embarrassed, and turned away his head. 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 307 

"Can you not find employment in ditching any 
longer?" said Donor. 

"That is not the difficulty," said Marks. "I could 
find employment, but — but Mrs. Marks " 

"What about Mrs. Marks?" said Donor. 

"Mrs. Marks does not even know that I ever was a 
ditcher, and has more than once asked me what so 
many spades were doing about the house, and I was 
afraid to tell her. I went so far as to ask her, at one 
time, how she would like to be the wife of a ditcher, 
and her answer was that ditchef 's daughters ought to 
be ditcher's wives; and I have no doubt but that it 
would break her heart to think that she was the wife of 
a ditcher. What to do, I cannot tell. I know no other 
business but that of ditching, and yet, there is a vast 
disagreement between that business and the taste of 
Mrs. Marks; and farther, dear Donor, the appearance 
of this house, and the style in which it would seem we 
ought to live, would not agree with the business of 
ditching." 

"Here," said Donor, "is another evidence of the un- 
happy efi'ect of one leading error; but the deed is done. 
But are you sure, Marks, that your wife would oppose 
your continuance in your honest vocation?" 

"0 1 am quite sure she would! It would kill her 
w^ith shame ! For, more than once, when we have been 
speaking of the society that we should associate with 
after we should become fairly settled, she has given me 
clearly to understand that it would not do for us to be 
even known to mechanics, or the laboring classes; and 
I am certain that she could not be induced to regard 
them as visitors. You have heard. Donor, of the match 
between Miss Brittle and Bafi", the shoemaker. lie 
had made considerable money by liis trade, but his 



308 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

wife would not hear of his following it any longer after 
their marriage, and he turned merchant. But, poor 
fellow! not understanding the business, I am told, he 
has spent all that he had made by his trade, and that 
they are in a fair way to come to poverty. But they 
had no Donor to look to, and you know that women 
Avill have their little notions, and it is useless to oppose 
them." 

"Well, Marks, you will have to make the best you 
can of your condition. You can become an under- 
taker, and that will <give you employment; and the 
ladies do not know generally what it means. So you 
can give your wife such an understanding of the matter 
as will best suit you. I will give you such an appro- 
priation as your circumstances require — four servants, 
besides the cook, with such things pertaining to your 
kitchen and table as are necessary, and triple your 
weekly allowance, and something for your servants." 

The servants were obtained, the fixtures were all in 
their place, and Marks for a time thought that his 
wants were supplied, and a few quiet days passed over 
his head. But it was not long before they were invited 
out to spend an evening with one of the fashionables 
of the city.- After they had determined on going to 
the party, Mrs. Marks told her husband that if he ex- 
pected her to go with him, there were two or three 
things that had to be done: "You are to get clear of 
those low-heeled, flat-bottomed shoes of yours," said 
she; "and I am heartily tired of that bell-crowned hat; 
and you will either have to get you a new pair of 
trousers, or put straps to those that you have, for how 
would your wife feel to see her husband in company 
with his trousers flying up halfway to his knees every 
step? And then that coat of yours is, by about one 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 309 

foot, too short in the waist; it makes your bod}" look 
so short, and your legs so long, that when you are 
walking about I am all the time reminded of a pair of 
tongs; and unless you will make these changes, I can- 
not be recognized among the fashionables as your wife — 
though, indeed, there will be no necessity of any recog- 
nition of each other there. In fact, a man is not expected 
to attend to his own wife at such a place; and I will 
no doubt have attention enough from other gentlemen 
on the occasion. Yet, lest I should be called on to in- 
troduce you to some of my acquaintances, it will be 
important that these changes be made. And permit 
me, while I am on the subject of dress, to say to you 
that your wife would be the better of a few articles. 
I had an abundant supply when we were married; but 
one should keep up with the times, and as the season 
is changing, I shall have need of a muff and visite^ 
with several other articles." 

Marks saw that he was mistaken in supposing that 
his wants were supplied, and he again wished for the 
return of Donor. Donor, at the appointed time, made 
his appearance, and, after duly considering the demands 
of Marks, granted the requests; and Marks soon ap- 
peared in a new suit — made with an eye to the latest 
fashions — and at the appointed time Mr. Marks and 
lady were seen at the party. Marks could not so well 
understand why it should be thought wrong that a 
man should be seen even in the same room with his 
Avife; but he resolved it all into this, that there is no 
accounting for fashion. 

So matters moved on till spring; then various wants 
presented themselves: extra appropriations to the pro- 
vision stores, as parties had to be given; a carriage, 
horses, etc. These, too, were all granted by Donor. 



310 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

But when summer came, and the fashionables were 
leaving the city, going to their country-seats and wa- 
tering-places, Rue became dissatisfied, and talked con- 
tinually of the dullness of the city, and the oppressive 
nature of the heat; and that any man who did not 
want his wife to die ought to procure a country-seat 
for summer; and she became desponding and unhappy. 
Marks found life a burden to him, and he concluded to 
lay this matter before Donor also, which he did on 
Donor's return. After long consultation. Donor con- 
cluded to furnish Marks with a summer residence, 
whereupon the establishment was procured, with all 
the fixtures necessary to make it both beautiful and 
comfortable, and Marks and lady moved to it, and for 
some weeks their wants seemed to be supplied. 

But there was, in the neighborhood of this fine coun- 
try-seat, the humble habitation of a poor peasant, 
whose unpretending building obstructed the view a 
little in one direction from the residence of Mr. Marks, 
which became an eye-sore to Rue. She insisted that 
the peasant should be removed; "for," she said, "my 
dear husband, who knows but some person may take 
that poor old man and his wife to be our relatives; 
such a thing ^'Ou know would be very aflicting; and I 
cannot enjoy any thing until that old house and the 
old man and his wife are removed." And Marks him- 
self thought it was a pity that a place as beautiful as 
his should be marred by such an old hut being in its 
neighborhood, for the house of the peasant was really 
in sight of Mr. Marks's; and he promised himself that 
just as soon as he should see Donor he would submit 
the subject to him. Donor was pained, on his return, 
to find Marks still dissatisfied; and after inquiring the 
cause, Marks told him that the countrj'-seat was lovely 



DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 311 

in the extreme, with this exception, "that there lives 
in the neighborhood," said Marks, "a poor old peas- 
ant. The house is mean-looking, and the old man and 
his wife are very odd in their appearance; and Mrs. 
Marks has taken it into her head that strangers might 
take it into their heads that they are relatives of ours, 
and that, you know, would be unfortunate; and in 
order that happiness and contentment may exist at 
our house, it is absolutely necessary to remove the 
l^easant. The old man says he lives there through the 
kindness of a friend, and has the privilege of cultivat- 
ing a few acres of ground, and the use of the house, as 
long as he lives, and seems to be quite contented; but 
I think the old man ought to be made to go away." 

"I shall give you no answer now; but you will go to 
the city to-morrow, at four o'clock p.m., and call at the 
banker's exchange, and inquire for Levi, the banker." 
At the appointed time Marks was at the exchange, and 
on inquiry for Mr. Levi, the banker, was ushered into 
what seemed a private reading-room, and into the 
presence of a tall old gentleman, near threescore and 
ten, and though his locks were white, yet when he 
arose to meet Marks, he was as straight as a youth, and 
his step seemed still to be as elastic as a boy's. He was 
wearing a plain black suit, with a pair of spectacles 
])ushed up on his brow, and a pen run thi-ongli his 
white locks and resting on the top of his ear. 

"Be seated, Mr. Marks," said Mr. Levi. 

Marks took his seat, but could not conceive how Mr. 
Levi came in possession of his name; neither could he 
imagine why Donor should have sent him to Mr. Levi, 
unless it was that this banker was to have something 
to do in raising the funds necessary to remove the 
peasant, as he recollected to have seen his name once 



312 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

in some way connected with a check given him by 
Donor. Levi soon brought him right in his reckon- 
ings, by relating as follows: "Do you remember, Mr. 
Marks, some time since, of having rescued an individ- 
ual from the robbers who had turned his carriage down 
a bank, and were dragging him from it to murder and 
rob him?" 

"I remember it," said Marks. 

"I am the individual," said Levi, -"and I am also 
Donor; and believing as I did, and do now believe, that 
you were the means of saving my life, and at the same 
time, from possession by the robbers, a large sum of 
money which was then upon my person, I determined 
at once to reward you handsomely, and for that pur- 
pose asked your name and place of residence. I have 
ever since traveled at night disguised by the mask of a 
young man. I have now bestowed upon you much 
more than a competency, notwithstanding you have 
long since violated the contract which we first made. 
But if I had found you worthy, I still should have re- 
mained unknown to you, and should have continued 
to honor your drafts; but I find you unworthy, and 
I shall bestow no more favors upon you. I bore with 
your extravagances and weaknesses until I saw that 
you were capable of oppression. The old peasant 
of whom you complain is a friend of God, and of his 
country, and of mine. I am also his Donor, and his 
apparent condition would have been much better long 
ago if he had accepted my proffered assistance; but 
his humble cottage, a few acres of land, a horse, and 
a cow, are all that he would ever consent to receive 
from me. He takes a manly pride, old as he is, in 
supporting himself and old lady b}^ his own labor, and 
withal he is truly a happy man. I have often heai'd 



DONOR AND TKE DITCHER. 313 

him say that between his garden and Bible he finds 
both employment and pleasure. I visit him often, but 
not with the expectation of bestowing any thing upon 
him, but to receive, for he never fails to bestow upon 
me his blessing; and I have spent the happiest moments 
of my life with the old people, while attending to their 
evening devotions; and a thousand times and one have 
they paid me in prayers and blessings for the little 
that I have bestowed upon them; and as to my part, I 
should be proud to claim the kind old man and his 
wife as my relatives. And yet you desire that they 
should now, in their helpless old age, be driven from 
their qniet little home, and be houseless, possibly, the 
remnant of their days, just because their humble dwell- 
ing can be seen from your proud mansion, or lest some 
stranger should mistake .them for your relatives. 

"Kow, Mr. Marks, believing as I do that you have 
already more than you can be safely trusted Avith, I 
shall divide what is in your possession between you 
and the peasant, having yet full powers over the deeds 
and transfers; and though the peasant of whom you 
speak (blessed old man of God!) does not wish it, yet 
he has a poor widowed daughter, vvnth several children, 
of whom I have often heard him speak with great ten- 
derness; so that what I bestow upon him will, after 
awhile, reach the helpless lot of the widowed daughter; 
and I will farther say to you that I shall no longer 
honor your drafts, so that you will have to adopt means 
for your support. But before we part to meet no more, 
let me mention a few of your fjiults, or at least errors: 
First, when your circumstances became a little im- 
proved, you forsook your old fi'iends; next, you became 
ashamed of ^''our honest calling; flirther, you sought 
the gratification of your passions and appetites, instead 
11 



314 DONOR AND THE DITCHER. 

of improving the condition of your heart and head; 
next, you erred in the selection of a wife, in doing 
which, instead of being directed by sound judgment 
and common sense, you followed the dictates of a dis- 
eased imagination and false pride, and took a wife from 
a circle of society of which you knew nothing; the 
consequence has been that your wife was every way 
unsuitable, and the connection an unhappy one; for 
Mrs. Marks has been miserable herself, and any thing 
but a blessing to you. Her faults are justly chargea- 
ble, to a great extent, upon her weak, vain, misguided 
parents, from whom she received her defective educa- 
tion; though I do not like to speak of her sex unless I 
can speak in their praise. Another mark of improper 
principles on your part is this, that notwithstanding 
your demands have been numerous, and sometimes 
heavy, yet you have never felt that you were able, or 
even in need of any thing, to give to the starving poor. 
And finding that my efforts to bless you have all failed, 
seeing that desire is the parent of your opinions and 
wants, and that your desires are not directed by wis- 
dom, but by morbid passions, I shall bestow no more 
favors upon you; I am your Donor no longer. But all 
the rest of your faults might have been borne by me, 
if it had not been that I found you capable, by means of 
your resources, and ready, to oppress the virtuous poor. 
Power should never be given to those who will employ 
it in oppression. So here, Marks, we part." And as the 
good Donor reached forth his hand to him for the last 
time, and the word "farewell" was trembling on his 
lips, Marks saw a tear swim around his eye, while his 
last words were, "May you yet see happier days!" 

The weekly meetings of Donor and Marks were now 
at an end. Marks, with deep sorrow, and a wiser if 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 315 

not a better man, now returned to his Eue, nnd at once 
determined to tell her all about their condition, and 
that they would have to adopt some measure within 
themselves for their weekly supplies, and that their es- 
tate would have to be equall}^ divided between them- 
selves and the old peasant. From this hour the spirits 
of Eue were broken. She went no more into society, 
and bitterly reproached herself for ever having mar- 
ried at all. Her loss of spirits soon destroyed her 
health, and it was not long till she sank into the grave. 
Marks ever after lamented the blunders of his life. 
He became a restless wanderer upon the earth. When 
last seen, his locks were white, and sorrows and cares 
had plowed deep furrows upon his brow; and though 
conscious of the many errors of his past life, yet, as he 
said, it was too late to repair them, while his motto 
was, "No matter what changes may come up in the 
life of the ditcher, he will never be ashamed of his 
spade." 1848. 



The Alpine Hunter. 

Why it is that the religious world has almost with 
general consent agreed that those things connected 
with love and marriage should be excluded from relig- 
ious periodicals, is to me a matter of surprise. We are 
allowed to write and publish as much as we please on 
the subjects of commerce, agriculture, mechanics, the 
fine arts, literature, and politics; and, in fact, almost 
every thing is found in religious journals except the 
subjects referred to; when there is no act in the life of 
an irreligious person which is more praiseworthy and 
Christian-like than to unite, in a suitable manner, in 



316 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

the holy estate of matrimony; and why it should be 
looked upon as unsuitable to religious journals I am 
unable to tell. There is no act of human life, save the 
preparation of the soul for death and the judgment, of 
so much interest as that of marriage. The sacred his- 
torian thought it of sufficient importance to justify him 
in giving a full account of the manner by which Isaac 
was enabled to call the lovely Rebecca his bride. I am 
disposed to think that all subjects of interest to man- 
kind should be admitted into public journals. I shall 
send out this story with but two objects — first, to 
gratify the curious, as the history of the hunter is an 
eventful one; secondly, to show the faithfulness of the 
female heart. Let no one say that it is untrue, or with- 
out its moral. 

Among the many daring acts of Napoleon Bonaparte, 
who was one of this world's wonders, and the scourge 
of nations — who may be compared to the fearful tor- 
nado which rends the forest, laying bare the beds of 
lakes and rivers, overturning towns and cities, causing 
man and beast to tremble, and the earth to groan be- 
neath its tread — I say, that among the daring acts of 
this great man, that of crossing the Alps, with an im- 
mense army, with artillery and heavy baggage, was 
one of the most wonderful. 

After he had conceived the plan, he sent forth an ex- 
pedition, consisting of one man, to make a survey, if 
possible, across those rocky heights. The engineer, 
after availing himself of all the information which he 
could obtain, and spending considerable time in the 
mountains, returned to l!^apoleon with a very brief re- 
port, which was, that to cross the Alps as he wished 
was impossible. The answer of Napoleon was as brief 
as the report— that "impossible" was not good French, 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 817 

and that he might stand aside, as he had no farther 
use for him. 

He still kept his army in motion, advancing daily to- 
ward the Alps, which were already beginning to frown 
upon him. His method of obtaining information was 
to acquire it from hunters, who were supposed to have 
a more correct knowledge of the mountains than other 
persons. Already quite a number of them had been 
called ujDon, and each and all gave discouraging ac- 
counts. Again and again had mention been made, in 
the hearing of Napoleon, of the Alpine Hunter. While 
there were many who were hunters, there was one who 
was familiarly known as the Alpine Hunter, which dis- 
tinction he had gained by his superior knowledge of 
the mountains and his extraordinary ability to possess 
himself of the antelope, ibex, and other game, which 
inhabited those regions. Napoleon ordered a detach- 
ment to go and bring the Alpine Hunter. At length 
the habitation of this notorious hunter was pointed out 
to the detachment, high up the Alps, like an eagle's 
nest, among the crags, which seemed to be beyond the 
reach of all creation, except that portion blessed with 
wings; and after much labor and toil they were ena- 
bled to find the narrow and intricate passes which led 
to this lonely abode, built as it were among the clouds, 
having as neighbors the frowning brows of ancient 
rocks, the eagle, the ibex, the wild goat, and the mount- 
ain storm. The detachment came suddenly upon him, 
and surprised him in his bed. The hunter laid his 
hand upon his rifle, and was about to defend himself; 
but the soldiers said they were peaceable, and that they 
were sent by Naj^oleon, who wished to be favored with 
his presence. In a few moments bolts and bars were 
turned and fastened, and the hunter's habitation was 



318 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

left as lonely as the rock on which it stood. When in 
the presence of I^^apoleon, the latter informed him that 
the object for which he had been brought was that he 
desired to pass the Alps with his army, with artillery 
and heavy baggage, and wished to obtain any informa- 
tion which he might be able to give, with respect to a 
passage through those heights. The hunter stated that 
there were but two persons on earth who would be able 
to conduct the array through the Alps; one was an 
Arab, who was likely to be at that moment somewhere 
on the deserts of Arabia, and the other was himself. 
Napoleon at once employed him as a guide. When 
once the Alps had been crossed, and the army safely 
encamped in the plains bej^ond, ]!*»ra2)oleon had the 
hunter called into his presence, to reward him for his 
services, and to permit him to return to his home and 
his country. When an offer of a rich reward was made 
for his services, he declined receiving it, and manifested 
considerable mortification that he could no longer be 
serviceable. The general, much pleased with his prow- 
ess, intelligence, and noble bearing, offered him a place 
in the army, and requested that he would share with 
him the fortunes of war; which invitation he imme- 
diately accepted, and was at last promoted to be major 
of artillery. His conduct had excited considerable 
interest among the officers of jSTapoleon. To one of 
them the hunter gave the following account of his past 
history, wjiich, together with some facts connected with 
his subsequent career, I shall give to the public as 
nearly in his very language as I can recollect: 

"My father and mother were Swiss. I was the only 
child of my mother, and she was for many years a 
widow. My father died when I was about ten years of 
age, leaving nothing behind him to support his helpless 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 319 

family save the proceeds of a few successful hunts. 
M}^ father, having been unsuccessful in business, had 
settled in one of the gorges of the mountains, in order 
that he might support his family by his gun; but not 
having been accustomed to the chase in early life, he 
was never able to do more than to gain for his family 
a bare support. It was not long after my father's 
death until want began to present itself; and I very 
soon came to the determination, young as I was, to 
take my father's gun and go into the mountains, and 
see if Providence would not throw something in my 
way, so that I might save my mother and myself from 
starvation. Suffice it to say that I succeeded beyond 
my expectations, and the day never came that found 
our humble habitation without meat; and by the sale 
of the proceeds of my hunting I was enabled to obtain 
other articles of necessity, and in a few years some 
of the comforts, and at times even the luxuries of life; 
and I am proud to sa^^ that the last days of ray mother 
were her brightest, so far as the good things of this 
world were concerned, and would have been her hap- 
piest but that she ever felt sorely her loss in the death 
of my father. I did all I could to bless and comfort 
her; and for ten years and more after the death of 
ray father I never spent a single night anywhere else 
but under our lowly roof, unless I was cut off from 
home by the darkness of the night, by being belated 
in the mountain, or had descended into the vale to 
make sale of the j^roceeds of the chase; for it was some 
time after my father's death before I was enabled to 
hire a servant, to aid my mother in household affairs, 
and to keep her company in my absence. Her health 
at last gave way, and it was but too evident that she 
would soon sleep beside my father. Never shall I for- 



320 THE ALPINE IIUxXTER. 

get the evening when she pointed out to me the spot 
where she wished her dust to rest in hope till the res- 
urrection of the just. I had returned from my wan- 
derings in the mountains; the sun had sunk low in the 
west, and withdrawn his direct rays from the vales and 
gorges, but was shining with increased splendor upon 
the tops of the mountains, as an affectionate father 
parting from his daughter and imprinting on her brow 
burning kisses. We walked from our humble dwelling 
(my mother leaning on my arm) to the grave of my 
father. My mother, worn with years, feeble from dis- 
ease, pale and trembling, traced with her own hand 
upon the ground, on the left side of my father's grave, 
saying, 'Lay me here; this is the side on which I al- 
ways slept, and rested my head in the hollow of his 
left shoulder.' Death had no terrors to her; her soul 
was fitted for its passage to a better world than this ; 
and the grave had no gloom, since her dust was to 
mingle with the dust of him who was the companion 
of her youth. I could only weep while I saw her thus 
composedly marking the spot where I was to make her 
bed in death; and our poor Louise, our only servant, 
who had followed us to the spot, wept as though her 
heart would break; for she was not only the servant of 
my mother, but her daily friend and companion. After 
this she declined rapidly, and nine days later I closed 
her eyes in death. When my mother died I dismissed 
our servant; then I built the little cell in which you 
found me, and determined to pass my days in the 
mountains. 

'•Those who have never lived the life of the hunter 
know nothing of its excitement, its freedom, and I may 
say, its independence. Nature was my flower-garden ; 
the storni}' wind, in the dark and gloomy gorges and 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 321 

rocky passes, was the organ that made me music, and, 
as variations, I had the pleasure of listening to the ava- 
lanches of snow and ice, when, in masses like mount- 
ains, they would break away from some lofty steep, and 
seek a resting-place far in the vales below, with a roar 
that would seem to fill all space with sound, and shake 
the tops of the mountains, accompanied with a pe- 
culiar kind of crash, as though they had driven in the 
ribs of nature and riven the earth asunder. At other 
times, for the sake of variety, I would topple a large 
mass of time-worn rock from some giddy height, and 
see it kindle its wrath to fury, while every shrub and 
tree, and even rocks that were ill at ease in their beds, 
w^ere carried downward in the wake, while each and 
all would gather speed as they went, like evil spirits on 
errands of vengeance. I have studied Nature in her 
first edition, drank of the mountain brook at its source, 
plucked flowers from stalks which had never been trans- 
planted, and breathed an atmosphere that was as pure 
as nectar; I have stood upon the mountain's most loft}^ 
summit, with an unclouded sky above me, and the sun 
shining in his strength, while the tornado raged far be- 
low, and sj^read itself out like a level lake to a distance; 
I have seen the lightning sporting through the storm, 
while the loud thunder rolled along the vale, or bounded 
against the mighty clifts, and then, like some giant 
warrior overmatched and beaten back, would sound a 
retreat, uttering loud complaints as though it had re- 
ceived a death -wound, and die away fiir in the distance 
with a melancholy moan. Thus, in bold relief against 
the sky, I have stood, and knew no rival save the 
strong-winged eagle on his way to the sun, or a lost, 
bewildered fleck of some wrecked and rainless cloud, 
and looked above the toj) of the thoughts of the men 
14* 



322 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

of the world. I have also studied the habits of the 
game which I pursued, and learned their hours for feed- 
ing and repose, so that search for them was seldom un- 
successful; and though I lived alone, yet I had society 
•when I wished it. With the hunters I was always on 
the best of terms; and in our intercourse there was an 
ease, a freshness — yea, a zest — of which the dwellers in 
the vale knew nothing, while we would relate to each 
other any interesting occurrence in the chase; and he 
alone knows how to talk and to listen who has pos- 
sessed himself of the light-footed antelope, or bounded 
from rock to rock, or pursued from cliff to cliff the 
ibex in his lofty rambles. 

"Yet there are moments in the life of a hunter when 
he may be said to be alone. To move softly for hours 
through an unbroken wood, where no human tracks 
are seen, stopping oft and looking and listening for 
game, you become at last so perfectly quiet that nature 
seems to hold her breath, and you can hear the beating 
of your pulse throughout your entire frame. Yet you 
are not entirely alone: at length an ibex, antelope, or 
some other animal, shows itself from behind a rock or 
tree; in a moment your bead is drawn, your finger is 
on the trigger, the sharp crack of the rifle echoes away 
along the vale or up the cliffs, bringing suddenly to 
mind home, friends, and all that is connected with 
them. In another moment the sound has died away; 
then it is that loneliness returns, like the darkness 
that succeeds the flash of lightning at midnight; and, 
to make your loneliness comj^lete, your gun is empty; 
for a hunter is never alone while there is a load in his 
gun. 

"But notwithstanding his enjoyment of the excite- 
ment of the chase, and of the wild scenes of the mount- 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 323 

ain, man is a social animal. Adam would not have 
been perfectly happy, even in the Garden of Eden, if 
God had not made Eve to share life with him. So I 
began, a few years after the death of my mother, to 
frequent the vale, and that, too, when I did not go alto- 
gether to dispose of the proceeds of the chase. At 
length I contracted a fondness for society, and espe- 
cially that of worthy and virtuous females, and event- 
ually made the acquaintance of the daughter of a 
worthy citizen. 

"Lasaphene De La Omo was an only child, and her 
parents possessed much of this world's goods. I soon 
found that her society had become essential to my hap- 
piness, and was pleased to think that my presence con- 
tributed to her enjoyment; but it was a considerable 
length of time before I could venture to make a decla- 
ration of m}^ passion. I was without relations, or a 
name, beyond that of an expert hunter. Although I 
had gained some gold, yet I did not attempt to make a 
crutch of that, by which to support or prop my hopes. 
I at length made an offer of myself, just as I was, 
buoyant almost as the deer upon the mountain — my af- 
fections pure, and my heart unadulterated. I was not 
repulsed, but all was suspended upon the decision of 
De La Omo, her father. I sought his approbation, but 
failed to obtain it. My soul withered within me; for I 
knew she was an obedient and dutiful child, and would 
not be guilty of an act which would mix sorrow in her 
father's cup. Then I made known to her my want of 
success, and that I was of opinion that it was, at least 
in part, owing to an expectation with her father that 
she was to be the link by which it was supposed that a 
more influential individual than myself was to be con- 
nected with the family. At the close of these remarks 



324 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

Lasaphene grew deadly pale, tears fell from her large 
black eyes, and she seemed for a moment to be strug- 
gling for breath, but soon gained her self-possession. 
Laying her hand upon my arm — which liberty she had 
never before taken — and lifting her eyes, yet wet with 
tears, to mine, she said, 'My Ultimo — I say mine^ yet it 
is possible you will never be mine — there are some 
things which I can promise you. The first is, I will 
never marry the man of whom you speak. He has a 
name, a title, wealth, and power; but the rank weeds 
of crime and folly have grow^n up and choked the af- 
fections of his nature. He is vain, he is proud, he is a 
man of policy; he has mixed with a hypocritical and 
deceitful world, until the handwriting of confidence is 
obliterated, and distrust is written upon every thing. 
I shall ever prefer remaining with my parent to shar- 
ing life with him. I have no idea that my father will 
ever require me to marry a man whom I cannot love; 
for though he has refused your request, yet I have a 
good and kind father, who loves me most tenderly; in 
fact, I am his idol. To afifiict him would be a sore af- 
fliction; for when once the heart of the aged is bruised, 
it never heals again. With his consent, I should be 
happy with you; but to go without it, the curse of dis- 
obedience would follow us through life, which would be 
enough to embitter every stream of pleasure; and 
while I say, under the circumstances, that I cannot 
marry you, yet I can say — yes, I will say — should you 
remain true, I will never marry another.' I could not 
say to her. Fly with me. I knew not what to say; I 
vowed; I pledged undying faithfulness, and laid hold 
on the last ray of hope. I soon after learned that He 
La Omo had changed his will, and cut off Lasaphene 
from all interest in his estate if she should ever marry 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 325 

me. This I looked upon as the death -knell of all my 
hopes; and it was while I was writhing under my 
blighted j)rospects that Napoleon's detachment came 
upon me. I was at that moment fully prepared to turn 
my back on home and country, travel no matter where, 
and encounter dangers however great; so that the pri- 
vations, fatigues, and perils of war were a relief to me. 

"After the campaign in Italy was terminated, and 
Napoleon, with what remained of his army, had re; 
turned to Paris, during the truce of six months, I qfon- 
cluded to go back to my native country, to visit the 
graves of my parents, to unlock the rusty bolts of my 
mountain cell, and to see if any change had taken place 
with respect to my flame in the vale; for the labors and 
hardships of the camp had done nothing in the way of 
obliterating the memory of my almost adored Lasa- 
phene. The grace and beauty of her person, her dark 
and flowing tresses, the smoothness of her brow and 
cheeks, her rosy lips, breathing eloquence, were ever 
before my fancy; but her large dark eyes, shaded with 
long and silky lashes, wet with tears as pure as the dis- 
solving flake of mountain snow when last I saw them, 
appeared to be ever turned toward me, like a picture 
drawn with its eyes upon the artist, which always 
seems to be looking upon the beholder, no matter wiiat 
part of the room he may occupy. This impression, 
more than everything else, held my afl'ections fixed; 
and if at any time my thoughts roamed too far or staid 
too long from the object of their attraction, when they 
returned again those ever -watchful eyes seemed to 
gather about them a shade of melancholy, which re- 
vived afresh in my heart my promise of faithfulness to 
Lasaphene. 

"As I approached the neighborhood of that s])ot 



326 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

where I first breathed the vital air, and looked upon 
the light of this sinful world, varied were the thoughts 
which struggled through my mind. Before me rose the 
dark and frowning Alps, and with my eye I could trace 
the valleys, gorges, passes, and rugged heights along 
which I tripped in my boyhood days, with my trusty 
rifle on my shoulder, a heart buoyant as air; and there, 
in lonely widowhood, stood the Alpine Hunter's hut, 
where I had passed so many happy nights, whistling and 
singing, oiling and dressing the lock and barrel of my 
good rifle, and molding balls for my next day's hunt; 
but there was no smoke curling out of its chimney, no 
fiiithful dog guarding its door; no signs of life were 
there; and when my eyes were turned to the mountain 
gorge in which slept the dust of my fond parents, the 
dreams of other days — of childhood and youth — re- 
turned with all the clearness of noonday reality. My 
father's manly form was before me; I sat again on my 
little chair beside my mother, and rested my head upon 
her knees, and felt again my mother's fingers straying 
through my locks, and turning aside my clustering 
curls, as she sang me to my evening slumbers; and 
then I thought of my Liisaphene, while I seemed afraid 
to learn any thing of her fate. These thoughts so 
overj^owered me for a time that the soldier gave way, 
despondency and fear took hold upon me, and tears 
like rain fell from my e3^es, softening my rough and 
war-worn cheeks. But again I saw in my imagination 
the ever-watchful eyes of my Lasaphene turned upon 
me, which seemed to say, Fear not! there is a God who 
guards the interest of the faithful and good — trust him. 
This was like oil on my troubled heart; and I, in part 
at least, dismissed my griefs, wiped away my tears, 
and again breathed comparatively easy. 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 327 

"I was at this time approaching a small village, on 
the border of which lived De La Omo. It was a most 
lovely spot; the building itself was an ancient pile, 
which had long been in the family; but the chief in- 
terest of the place consisted in the groves, gardens, 
and pleasure-grounds, which at one time had been in 
a high state of improvement, but at present were a 
little out of repair, though yet lovely in the extreme. 
As I approached the village church, I saw a funeral 
procession moving away from it; and seeing it would 
cross my way, I halted. The procession was large, 
and among those who were slowly following the corpse, 
and close behind the minister of God, was one who, 
though deeply shaded Avith the weeds of mourning, 
in her form and gentle bearing so reminded me of my 
Lasaphene that I lost sight of all others present. She 
gave me but one short glance as she passed; and 
though her eyes were swollen with weeping and half 
closed, and seen through the dark shade of her veil, 
yet so powerful was the impression that my heart 
struggled within me and my whole frame shook. But 
all was yet in doubt and uncertainty. It was but a 
glance — I might be mistaken. In a few moments more 
I was at the inn, and though knowing many, was re- 
cognized by none. I was not slow in making inquiry 
with respect to the death which had lately taken place 
in the village, and learned that Sr. De La Omo had de- 
parted this life but three days before, and that the cit- 
izens were just bearing his body away to its last resting- 
place. I also pushed my inquiries far enough to learn 
that the wife and daughter yet lived, and that the 
daughter was still unmarried; and my informant Avent 
on to tell me that the young lady had determined 
never to marry; that she had at one time contracted a 



328 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

passion for a young hunter, and being opposed by her 
father, she had discarded her lover, and that the young 
man became desperate, and soon after disappeared in 
the mountains, and had never been heard of since, and 
was no doubt dead; this so affected the young lady 
that she gave up society, and never mingled with the 
multitude, unless it was in divine Avorship; but what 
she might be disposed to do, now that her father was 
dead, he could not tell; she had had many good offers, 
but would not accept any of them, still preferring to 
remain with her parents. 

"Thinking that it would be indelicate in me to call 
on Lasaphene until the sharp edge of her grief had 
worn away, I determined to avail myself of the present 
opportunity to visit my mountain home, and also the 
graves of my parents. This I took care to do alone 
and unattended. I first bent my steps toward my 
little habitation far up the cliffs. As I ascended, every 
rock and tree seemed to be as familiar to me as the 
face of an old friend. At length I laid my hand on 
my own key; it had lain for years in the crevice of 
the rock where I had deposited it the night I took 
my departure with the detachment of IS'apoleon's 
soldiers. I grasped it convulsively in my hand; it 
was the outdoor sentinel of my humble hut, which 1 
slowly and softly approached. I thrust the key once 
more into its kindred lock; the rusty bolt gratingly 
moved under the pressure of my hand, the door opened, 
a breath as cold and chill as the grave met me; I was 
again in my mountain home. There was my bed, 
just as though I had arisen from it an hour before; 
the cover was still tangled and thrown back as I left 
it when surprised b}^ the detachment; unconsumed 
brands of my last fire lay upon the hearth; in fact. 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 329 

every thing was found in place, except my scanty store 
of provisions, wliich had been seized upon by the 
mountain rats that had insinuated themselves into 
the room. Two objects were missing — my trusty rifle 
and faithful dog. My rifle, I knew not its fate, having 
disposed of it when I connected myself with the army; 
and my dog, poor fellow ! followed me beyond the Alps, 
witnessed much of my affliction, but at last perished 
beside my tent in a foreign land. Poor Tabbo ! I should 
be unkind to forget thee. 

"My next visit was to the grave of my parents. I 
knelt at their feet and thought of by -gone days. Their 
repose seemed to be sweet and quiet, and my depres- 
sion of spirit was not so great as I had anticipated. 
I w^ept, but my tears were not bitter; and the angel 
of the resurrection no doubt keeps guard over the 
spot. After committing myself in prayer to the Grod 
of my fathers, I bade the dust of my beloved parents 
adieu. 

"When a reasonable length of time had elapsed after 
the death of De La Omo, I sought and obtained an 
introduction to Lasaphene, under a fictitious name, 
dressed in the style of a French officer; I was also 
wearing a large mustache, with my face much marred 
by the hardships of war. These things, together with 
the fact that I spoke to her in the French language, so 
completely disguised me that I was wholly unknown to 
her. Some changes had passed over her, but they were 
not so marked as I should have supposed. She wore the 
traces of thoughtfulness and a shade of melancholy, 
which made her countenance somewhat less animated 
than when I last saw her; but such were her grace and 
dignity that I could not for some moments avoid em- 
barrassment. I spoke with her of things in general, 



330 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

and indulged in easy conversation until all restraint 
subsided. I at length asked her if she was ever ac- 
quainted with an individual familiarly known as the 
Alpine Hunter. This question evidently startled her, 
but after a moment she collected herself, gave me a 
searching look, and replied that she was. I asked her 
what had become of him; she said she did not know. 
I asked if he were dead; she said the people generally 
supposed he was. In what manner do they suppose 
he came to his last end? She said that the opinions 
of the people were various on that subject: some sup- 
posed that he had been destroyed by an avalanche; 
others believed that he had missed his way in the fast- 
nesses of the Alps, and had perished with cold or hun- 
ger; others suggested that he had fallen a prey to wild 
beasts; while many of the hunters are of the opinion 
that he is converted into some kind of apparition, and 
is a general patrol of the mountains, and has been 
seen by them, as they suppose, in various forms; some- 
times he is an antelope, at other times he is an ibex; 
and in these forms he has been repeatedly shot at, as 
they say, though without the least danger of doing 
him any harm; others pretend to have conversed with 
him when he had taken on the form of a night-bird, 
and at eve would swoop down some mighty cliff, as the 
precursor of the midnight storm, giving the hunters 
timely notice to seek some place of shelter; and it is 
generally supposed by the hunters that he still occu- 
pies his mountain cell, as he used to call it; and though 
the door is always locked, they j)retend to have seen 
him enter without unlocking it; and so general is this 
supposition that notwithstanding he has been gone for 
years, yet no one has ever attempted to force his door, 
or in any way to interrupt his dwelling; 'but my opin- 



THE ALPINE HUNTER. 331 

ion is that he left with Napoleon's army when it 
crossed the Alps.' This last declaration of Lasaphene 
astonished me, for I had neither seen nor spoken to 
any of my acquaintances after I was taken by the de- 
tachment, and had been so circumstanced that I could 
not communicate with her either by friend or letter. I 
at last told herthat she was correct in her suspicions, that 
he did leave with the army, that I was well acquainted 
with him, and that he yet lived, and remembered her 
with more than the aifection of a friend; at which she 
turned deadly pale — her whole frame seemed to be 
convulsed, her bosom heaved as though slumbering 
fires which had long been pent up within had suddenly 
been ignited; but soon the paleness gave way to a 
glow almost like that of flame, which covered her face, 
tears streamed from her eyes, and a rapturous smile 
spread over her countenance. She at last exclaimed, 
'Am I awake? Is this reality, or is it a dream? shall I 
after awhile wake up and find this is all the mockery 
of a nightly vision? Am I deceived?' she said. 'O 
say the words to me again ! He lives; my Ultimo lives! 
and thinks of me! tell me all; tell me now!' I 
should have betrayed mj'self had not the agitation of 
Lasaphene prevented her from observing mine. I told 
her that it was no dream, but reality ; and assured her 
that Ultimo hut waited to learn his fate from. her. She 
now became more collected, and related as follows: 
'The Alpine Hunter I loved with all the strength of 
woman's love. He was noble, generous, brave, and 
won my love witliout trying to deceive; but my now 
sainted father interposed a barrier, and I could not 
disobey him. We could only vow faithfulness to each 
other, and leave our fortune to God and the future. 
My father soon after made a condition in his will 



332 THE ALPINE HUNTER. 

that I should be disinherited if I married without his 
consent; and though the property itself was not a 
matter of much moment, yet this act of my father 
showed the depth of his feeling on the subject. When 
this fact came to the ears of the hunter, he became 
desperate, and disappeared; but I never believed that 
he had either forgotten or abandoned me. My father 
seeing my faithfulness to himself, and the undying 
nature of my attachment before his death, relented, 
sent for an attorney, changed his will, making me 
his sole heir (save a comfortable support for my 
mother), introduced a new clause into his will ap- 
proving of my marriage with the hunter, should 
he ever return, and even expressed a wish that I 
should recall him, if I should ever ascertain the place 
of his abode.' I then told her that she must not ex- 
pect to find the hunter in appearance what he once 
was — young, fresh, buoyant, and full of life and j^oetry. 
I then described the appearance of the common soldier 
after the return from the campaign in Italy — worn, 
wasted with fatigue and hunger, and disjDirited — and 
asked her how she would fimcy such an object. 'But 
show me my own Ultimo,' said she, 'and any suffering 
through w^hich he may have passed will but endear 
him to my heart.' I then promised to present lier 
Alpine Hunter the next morning. Scarcely able to pre- 
vent detection, I tore myself away. I cut off my mus- 
tache, obtained the usual dress of the Alpine Hunter, 
returned the next morning alone, spoke to her in my 
native tongue. I was then at once recognized as her 
Ultimo, and also as the French officer who visited her 
the previous evening. I shall never attempt to de- 
scribe this meeting. Our nuptials were not long de- 
layed. I am now the thrice-happy husband of the 



BURNING OF THE YALLABUSHA. 333 

pure, the gentle, the faithful Lasapheue De La Oino. 
True to her parents, her God, and her husband, there 
is no withering curse of an injured father upon us. 
Happy in each other, blessing others, while being blest 
ourselves with the promise of long life before us; for 
those who honor their father and mother have assur- 
ance that their days shall be long in the land w^hieh 
the Lord God giveth them." i847. 



Burning of the Yallabusha. 

On the night of the 18th of January, 1848, at eleven 
o'clock, the steamboat Yallabusha was baring her breast 
to the waters of the Mississippi, on her downward trip, 
bound for New Orleans. She was heavily freighted 
with cotton, and in her cabin and on her deck carried a 
medium number of passengers. Her cargo was so vast 
that the privileges of the voyagers w^ere greatly cur- 
tailed; they were confined to the cabin or such narrow 
passages as those who were engaged in putting on 
freight saw proper to leave for them. 

The night was dark, and the cane fires which had 
been burning on the sugar plantations that lined the 
shores had expired, and no lights were to be seen save 
here and there the dim flickering of the wood-yard 
lanterns. 

The passengers had ceased to promenade the cabin, 
the cheery song of the deckers had died aw^ay, and the 
merry romp and playful gambols of the children were 
all suspended for the night; and father, mother, and 
child had all turned in, as a sailor would say, to take 
refreshment in sleep — all retiring with the expectation 
that early on the next morning the apparently weary 



334 BURNING OF THE YALLABUSHA. 

boat would be brouofht to rest in her berth at the 
wharf in New Orleans, some of them to see for the 
first time, and others to look again upon, the busy mart 
of the Crescent City. 

All on board was hushed and still, as if that life 
which filled the boat a few hours before had been sud- 
denly quenched by the darkness of the tomb. The 
pilot stood at the wheel, with his spray-cap upon his 
head, and his pilot-coat drawn close about him, his 
practiced eye peering ahead, while he was swaying his 
massy charge to the right and left as the current 
would indicate; while the officer on watch stood alone, 
like a neglected stranger, upon the boiler-deck beside 
one of the chimneys, looking out in order that he 
might descry in time any w^eaker craft, so that they 
should not impose upon any fellow-traveler, as well as 
to keep themselves out of harm's way; while the weary 
engineer sat beside his fiiithful engine in sullen silence, 
with his half slumbering ear still open toward the pi- 
lot's bell, so as to attend at a moment's warning to the 
wishes of the man at the wheel; and the night-watch, 
with his leaded lantern, had just made his round, ex- 
tinguishing any spark that had fallen upon the decks 
or elsewhere, which seemed to be too full of life, and 
possibly was just pronouncing to himself, "All's well," 
when suddenly the flames burst through the cabin- 
floor in and about the clerk's office, the fire having been 
occasioned, no doubt, by the great heat of the boilers 
extending to the cotton -bags in their immediate vicin- 
ity, these probably being ignited by some wandering 
spark. The flames shot forth almost as suddenly as if 
from gunpowder. Instantly the cry "Fire! fire!" — 
the most terrific of all cries to those aboard of any 
kind of floating craft — rang throughout the boat. One 



BURNING OF THE YALLABUSIIA. 335 

minute more, and all hope of extinguishing the flames 
was at an end; for the already heated thin ^^ine boards, 
dry as tinder, burned like so many broom-straws fanned 
by a breeze, while all that kind of alarm and confu- 
sion which always exists where a number of persons — 
men, women, and children — are thrown together in the 
midst of deadly peril, now filled the boat. 

Let me say to the reader that while all the circum- 
stances which follow occurred in a few short minutes, 
yet we shall have to take them up and notice them one 
at a time. 

As soon as the fire was discovered, the man at the 
wheel turned the boat to the shore, and I believe never 
left his post until his wheel-ropes burned in two; but 
this did not occur until the bow of the boat struck the 
bottom near the bank. The passengers who occupied 
the gentlemen's cabin were able to roll themselves 
from their berths in time to pass the flames, which 
were already raging in the social hall — and gain the 
boiler-deck, and then the forecastle, so that as soon as 
the boat struck, they threw themselves over the bow 
into the water, where a few steps brought them upon 
dry land. 

One fact worthy of particular notice occurs here. 
Colonel S., one of the cabin passengers, laid hold on 
one of the large cables which lay on the forecastle, 
and with its end upon his shoulder plunged into the 
water, and by an extraordinary exertion was enabled 
to reach the land; then being assisted by others who 
had made the shore by this time, they carried the ca- 
ble up the bank, and made it fast to a tree; but from 
the alarm and confusion among the boat-hands they 
failed to make the cable fast to the boat, which fact 
was not discovered until it was too late. 



336 BURNING OF THE YALLABUSHA. 

We will now conduct the reader to the ladies' cabin, 
where every eye is sure to turn on such an occasion. 
There were Judge M., wife, and two children ; the Rev. 
Mr. P., wife, and two children; Mr. R. (merchant), wife, 
and child; with several others, and servants. As soon 
as the alarm of fire was given all seemed to regard the 
bow of the boat, or forecastle, as the safest point, which 
was no doubt a correct view. Judge M., the Rev. Mr. 
P., and families, were in a minute together in the la- 
dies' cabin; Judge M. went forward, leaving his wife 
and children, to see if there' was any chance for them 
to reach the bow of the boat. The Rev. Mr. P., with 
a child at each hand, and, as he supposed, his wife, fol- 
lowed Judge M. to the boiler-deck; but it was with 
considerable difficulty that they were enabled to pass 
the raging flames in the social hall. When they had 
reached the boiler-deck. Judge M. said, "I must return 
after my family." At this moment the Rev. Mr. P. 
discovered that his wife had failed to follow him, and 
he, too, with his children, undertook to return and join 
the wife and mother, and all be saved or perish to- 
gether. Judge M. was a little in advance of Mr. P. and 
his children. When he reached the social hall such 
was the increase of the flames that to pass them 
seemed next to impossible; but he rushed forward, and 
would have fallen and perished in the suffocating 
flames, but for the fact that he caught upon a table 
which was sitting in the cabin, by which he sustained 
himself until he passed the most difficult point, and 
was enabled to join his family in the ladies' cabin. 
The last account from the Rev. Mr. P. and his children 
is given by Judge M., who states that when passing the 
flames in the social hall, he heard close behind him the 
complainings of the children, and the thick, heavy 



BURNING OF THE YALLABUSIIA. 337 

breathings of Mr. P. There the father and children 
no doubt perished. 

After Judge M. had rejoined his family, as it was 
now impossible for them to reach the bow of the boat, 
and as the flames were searching the cabins fore and 
aft, they fled first to the guards, but were very soon 
driven from that point to the top of the wheel-house. 
The engine had to be kept in motion until the boat 
could be brought to, by which time the flames became 
so furious in the engine-room that the engineer was 
driven from his post, and it was now impossible for 
him to stop the motion of the machinery; and as the 
cable had not been made fast to the boat, as soon 
as the current drifted the stern around, the bow 
rounded out, and the boat, like some fearful monster 
maddened by the flames, drove with dreadful fury for 
the middle of the stream. This, as said by one on 
board, was an awful moment. One-half of the pas- 
sengers were yet on the boat, being driven from 
place to place by the pursuing flames. In a few mo- 
ments more, should they escape the flames, they would 
be so far from shore that they must perish by the 
flood. At this dreadful crisis a wail rang out from 
those on board, which, could you have heard, would for 
the time have stopped the blood in your veins. This 
was answered by a wild shout from those on the bank, 
^'Jump in! jump overboard!^' The raging fire had now 
turned the darkness of midnight into the brightness 
of noonday. Judge M., his delicate and feeble wife, 
and two little sons, were still standing on the top of 
the wheel-house, some twelve or fifteen feet from the 
water — the flames scorching them, and the boat madly 
tearing away from the shore. At this moment Colonel 
S., who stood in the water near the shore, cried out to 
15 



338 BURNING OF THE YALLABUSIIA. 

Mrs. M. to throw herself into the water and she should 
not perish. The Judge, who stood by her side with a 
child at each hand, said to her with the voice of au- 
thority, "Jump, jump this moment!" As the words 
passed his lips she leaped, and the Judge followed with 
his two children. Just as they reached the water, a 
heavy trunk fell from above upon Judge M.'s left arm, 
wounding it considerably. The blow loosened the 
child at his left-hand from his grasp, and it was never 
after recovered. He made for the shore as best he 
could with one crippled arm, and a child at the hand 
of the other. When he had gotten within some eight 
or ten feet of the shore he gave his child a shove on 
the waves toward the bank, leaving it to be caught 
and made safe by others, and returned to the rescue 
of his wife. Colonel S., as soon as he saw Mrs. M. 
leap from the boat, plunged in to her aid, and they 
were struggling together in the water, the Colonel 
gaining slowly upon the shore, and would likely have 
made it with his charge unaided, for he was a man of 
brave and daring spirit, and perfectl}^ at himself; but 
they were soon joined by Judge M., who gave them 
his aid, and in a few moments more they were at the 
river bank. 

Mrs. P., in the meantime, had been crowded off the 
boat; and as Mr. N. was swimming toward the shore 
he saw something rise in the water near him, which 
he laid hold u^^on and carried to the bank. It proved 
to be the now lonely, disconsolate, miserable Mrs. P., 
her husband and children being lost. 

But the reader is ready to ask, What has become of 
Mr. E., wife, and child? We will now point them out 
to you. Mr. E. is young, generous, brave; his wife a 
mere blooming girl; their child, little Willie^ the life 



BURNING OF THE YALLABUSHA. 339 

of the boat, two years old, with his bright face and 
large, laughing blue eyes. See them yonder at the 
stern of the boat, aft of the ladies' cabin. As the boat 
rounded out Mr. E. saw that all hope of safety was at 
an end if they remained longer on board; so he took 
his young wife with one hand, and little Willie Avith 
the other, climbed to the top of the guards aft, and 
they threw themselves overboard. Here let Mr. E. 
himself relate: "We all sank together; having both 
my hands encumbered I was unable to keep to the top 
while we were whirling and struggling through the 
water. I saw at once that one of my charges must be 
abandoned, or in a few moments all would be in eter- 
nity together. A single thought, and my selection was 
made — I let my sweet, laughing Willie go, or rather, 
unloosed his grasp upon me. Then by the use of my 
feet and one hand, I was enabled to rise to the top, and 
the fearful waves, which one might suppose would 
greatly increase the danger of drowning of those who 
had dropped overboard, were a God-send, for they car- 
ried us toward the shore." 

About the time that Mr. E., wife, and child, went 
overboard, one of the officers of the ill-fated steamer 
— if I mistake not, an engineer — who had for a time 
taken shelter in the steps of the boat, finding that he 
could not render relief to any one by remaining longer 
on board, and that every moment increased his own 
danger, threw himself into the river, and was making 
for the shore a little below where Mr. E. and hig wife 
had reached it. As he swam through the water he saw 
something rise to the surface, which he laid hold of 
and bore to the shore. It proved to be a child, but 
whose he did not know. He carried it up the bank. 
The child soon discharged the water it had swallowed, 



340 BURNING OF THE YALLABUSHA. 

and recovered from its strangling; when the engineer 
gave it in charge of some persons who had by this 
time reached the bank, and for a time thought no more 
about it, but went to see if there was any other person 
to whom he could give assistance. Mr. E. and wife 
were yet near the water's edge, and the young mother 
in the deepest anguish about her lost Willie; while her 
husband would tell her that she ought to thank Grod 
that any of them were saved, and that Willie was bet- 
ter prepared to die than they were. This she would 
acknowledge, but still she would call her Willie with 
the most imploring and despairing tones, as though 
she would arouse him from the deep, where she now 
supposed him buried; and again she would shriek, as 
though a dagger was piercing her heart, and cry out, 
"O Willie! Willie! how can I give you up? how can 
I leave you here?" 

At length it was stated b}^ some one that there was 
a child on the bank, and that they did not know whose 
it was. At this Mr. R. and wife, aided by some friends, 
climbed up the bank, when, meeting the child, who 
should it be but Willie? who made himself known by 
saying, "Ma, you're wet; and I'm wet, too, ma!" To 
have seen that mother, as she held him in her arms, 
ran her fingers through his wet locks, and pressed him 
to her grateful heart, would have brought tears to the 
eyes of a savage. 

There were twenty-seven or twenty-eight who never 
reached the shore, but perished either by the flames or 
the flood. 

The boat drove wildl}^ through the water until the 
machinery gave way and stood still, then the flaming 
mass drifted with the current, till it was lashed to a 
passing boat, towed to the shore, and made fast; but 



AN ARKANSAS STORY. 341 

as though destruction claimed her own to the last, the 
flames continued to rage, and the boat burned to the 
water's edge, and at last filled and sank to the common 
grave of western steamers, the bed of the Mississippi 
Eiver. i848. 



An Arkansas Story. 

While the world concedes to literature, civilization, 
and morals their just claims, it has withheld from the 
Bible and the religion of Christ their dues. The Bible 
is neglected, while the works of a day are introduced 
as the parlor book, and true piety is not thought to be 
a becoming subject of conversation for genteel persons 
in a polite circle. But, notwithstanding all this, once 
in awhile a full and frank acknowledgment of the su- 
periority of the claims of Christianity is met with, 
fresh from the lips of men of the world. I am sorry 
to say, however, that it too often requires the hand of 
af9iction, the j^rospect of danger, or the near approach 
of death, to induce them to make this honest confes- 
sion. Some of these acknowledgments I have heard 
and treasured up; and the story I am about to relate 
is, at least in part, connected with such an acknowledg- 
ment. 

About eighteen years ago, we descended the Missis- 
sippi in one of the largest steamers of that day, and 
while the hold, guards, and decks were crowded with 
cotton bales, the cabin was filled with passengers; and 
though the company was a mixed one, yet it differed 
widely from the multitudes one meets with on a steam- 
boat at the present day. Among all the passengers on 
board, I do not think there was one who had shipped 



342 AN ARKANSAS STORY. 

merely on a trip of pleasure; all were on business. 
The cost of traveling* was then too great to make pleas- 
ure-trips; from Louisville or Nashville to New Orleans 
the fare was forty dollars, and fifty dollars back. We 
had on board cotton and sugar planters, on their way to 
their plantations, land speculators, professional men, 
each on business in his line, while others were looking 
for a new home ; and among the rest was an aged and 
venerable minister of the gosj^el (Bishop McKendree), 
on his way to visit the Churches in the South, and to 
escape from the severity of a more northern climate. 
As our passage was a protracted one, the subjects of 
conversation were various and interesting; for there 
were on board men of more than ordinary talents, from 
almost every station in life. Yet religion did not be- 
come a subject of general conversation until Sabbath- 
day came, to pass which as agreeably as possible (as all 
games and amusements had to be suspended) it was de- 
termined by the cabin passengers that the aged minis- 
ter should be called on to give them a sermon; which 
he readily consented to do. The captain had every 
thing put in order, and all the unemployed persons 
about the boat summoned to the cabin, who, with the 
passengers, made quite a respectable congregation. 

I shall long remember the appearance of this vener- 
able man of God at the moment he arose from his chair 
to commence the service, and the first sentence that 
fell from his lips. Though his locks were whitened 
with the frost (3f years, and he stood trembling under 
the weight of age and infirmity, yet there was about 
him the cheerfulness of youth, and a benignant smile — 
the result of conscious innocence — played upon his 
countenance. He took a slight survey of his audience, 
and commenced by saying, "My time has come now;" 



AN ARKANSAS STORY. 343 

and well did he improve it. He read a psalm, made a 
short but comprehensive prayer, and then took for his 
text Eccles. xii. 13, 14: "Let us hear the conclusion of 
the whole matter: Fear God and keep his command- 
ments; for this is the whole duty of man. For God 
shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret 
thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." 

He proceeded to show man's accountability to God, 
and that his whole duty could never be considered at- 
tended to until God was loved supremely, and all his 
commandments kept; and that an immortal being, 
launched upon the wide ocean of eternal existence, 
could expect nothing better than wreck and ruin, un- 
less he had laid in stores, and made his reckonings for 
the harbor of eternal rest at God's right-hand; and that 
we cannot come to safe moorings there without first 
passing the straits of the bar of Almighty God; that 
abundance of grace would be found necessary as our 
ship-stores, and the word of God as our chart and com- 
pass. As he proceeded with his discourse, every one 
present seemed to feel the force and eloquence of truth. 

When the service was concluded, the hour of dining 
past, and the preacher had retired to his state-room, as 
the weather was cool, we were driven in close com- 
munity around the stove, and a general conversation 
ensued on the subject of religion, in which the writer 
acted the important j^art of listener. All agreed that 
the sermon we had just heard was an able one, and that 
the minister was a man of fine sense and taste, and 
great sweetness of spirit. At length the question was 
raised whether religion consisted in education, a rigid 
course of moral training, or a divine princii)lc. The 
ground was soon taken that it was nothing more than 
good morals, reduced to a system and acted out in the 



344 AN ARKANSAS STORY. 

affairs of life. Wliile this view was gaining a more 
general assent within the circle than one would have 
supposed, considering the character of the sermon to 
which we had just been listening, it was at last ob- 
jected to by one who was to a considerable extent the 
master-spirit of the party — an old and able lawyer, a 
man of general information. 

He began by saying, "Gentlemen, you may rest as- 
sured of the fact that there is something more in relig- 
ion than good morals. I am no professor; but you 
may depend upon it, there is a reality, a supernatural 
something in religion, and at times we are compelled, 
all of us, to acknowledge it. Let me give you," said 
he, "one single instance in my experience. Some time 
ago I was traveling through the Territory of Arkansas, 
and one day, after I had got beyond the settlements, I 
journeyed on the entire after part of the day without 
seeing any human habitation, or living being of whom 
to inquire with respect to whether I was in the right 
path or the wrong one, until my loneliness became op- 
pressive. As evening drew near, I became anxious 
about what was to become of me during the night. I 
thought I was drawing near the great swamp border- 
ing the Mississippi, but did not know whether I should 
find any house before I reached it or not. As I was 
alone and a stranger, I felt my situation to be more 
helpless and dependent than usual; but it so happened 
that between sunset and dark I came up to a small 
but rather comfortable-looking new cabin, by the wa}^- 
side, set down in the midst of an unbroken forest, 
which looked almost like the work of magic. I rode 
up to it, and called; a lady soon presented herself at 
the door; I claimed the hospitalities generally ex- 
tended to travelers in the frontier settlements. She 



AN ARKANSAS STORY. 345 

told me that I was welcome to stay, if I could put up 
with such fare as they were able to give me. I thanked 
her, and at once dismounted from my tired horse. She 
then went on to tell me that her husband had just 
ivalked out, but would be in directly; that I could let 
my horse stand till his return, or put him up myself, 
just as I liked — telling me, at the same time, where I 
would find a little corn, which I could give him. I put 
up my horse, fed him, returned to the house, and called 
for something to eat. She invited me to be seated, 
while she proceeded to prepare supper. The house 
consisted of two pens, Avith a partition-wall between; 
in one of these I took my seat, while the lady of the 
house was busy in the other, preparing supper. There 
I sat, alone, by a small fire, which was kindled mainly 
to drive away the mosquitoes, as the weather was warm. 
At length night — dark, heavy night — came on; and 
night means something in the swamps of the Missis- 
sippi. 

"I thought of my home — from which I had been ab- 
sent for months — of wife and children, and knew not 
what strange work disease and death might have done 
in my absence. My thoughts then turned upon my 
own situation. I was in the wildest spot of the waste 
portions of Arkansas; and, though weary with travel, 
there was still a considerable journey before me. At 
length the darkness of the night, like a sable curtain, 
closed in around me, as black as ink, while the owls 
commenced a hobgoblin -like serenade; and, of all 
sounds in the world, their hooting is to me the most 
hateful and lonely. Having learned, when a boy, that 
the Indians, when at war with the whites, were in the 
habit of using the complaining cry of the owl as their 
signal when about to make an attack upon the habita- 
15'=.'' 



346 AN ARKANSAS STORY. 

tion of the white man from different directions, I never 
hear its cry but it seems to me that it is the precursor 
of some secret enemy. 

"Suddenly the thought came to my mind, Where can 
the man of the house be? ^Just walked out!' — so said 
his wife. He could not have gone to visit a neighbor; 
for there was no neighbor to visit. He could not be 
hunting; the darkness of the night forbids that. What 
can he be after? This question I turned over in my 
mind again and again. At length the impression got 
hold upon me that his absence was, in some way or 
other, ominous of evil to me ; and it was so strong that, 
in despite of me, I became alarmed. Then I remem- 
bered that I was in the very region of country supposed 
to be infested with robbers, murderers, and runaways, 
and could not avoid running over in my mind the many 
horrid accounts which I had heard of murder and vio- 
lence, the scenes of which had been laid in this coun- 
try — all of which was calculated to increase my alarm, 
until m}^ fears were fully and fairly upon me. I thought 
of defense; but that was out of the question, for I had 
no weapons, as I had never carried any thing in the 
shape of arms larger than a j^ocket-knife; so that my 
head did not feel so safe upon my shoulders as it did an 
hour before; and I couid not avoid asking myself the 
question. What object could any man have in settling 
in such a place as this? — on one side, a swamp thirty 
miles wide, and on the other nothing but an unbroken 
forest for about the same distance, surrounded by wild 
beasts and poisonous serpents, and nearly devoured by 
mosquitoes. There is no farm here — no garden. How 
does the man live? What is his occupation? In answer 
to these questions, with the views and feelings which I 
then had, I came to the judgment that he was a robber, 



AN ARKANSAS STORY. 347 

and that I was in a robber's den; and the only way in 
which I could account for his absence was, that I had 
been discovered by him during the evening as I jour- 
neyed alone, and that he was out somewhere, probably 
not far distant, in conclave with his clan, perfecting 
their plan of operation for my destruction. I expected, 
on the return of this man to his house, to find in him 
the personification of bloodshed and murder. At length 
the sound of heavy footsteps fell on my ear; a moment 
more, a tall, fierce-looking man presented himself at 
the door, and, with a gruff, coarse voice, that seemed 
almost to chill me, said, 'Good-evening, sir.' He was 
dressed in Kentucky jeans coat and pantaloons, with- 
out vest or cravat. His hair was black, and inclined to 
curl, with a rather heavy pair of whiskers. As he en- 
tered the door he dropped upon his arm an immensely 
long rifle, and I noticed a tremendous knife attached to 
the strap which sustained his shot-pouch. He j^laced 
his gun upon its rack, hung up his pouch, took his seat, 
and sat for some minutes perfectly silent, during which 
time I observed him attentively, and judged him to be 
a man of prodigious strength; and while I viewed his 
large, bony, sunburnt hands, with his long nails, I could 
but think of the talons of some ancient bird of prey, 
and imagined that I could almost see the remains of 
the stains of blood upon them. 'And you are a robber,' 
thought I, 'and look just as I should suppose a robber 
would look.' At this moment another member of the 
family, whom I had not before seen, presented herself 
— a little girl about ten years of age, who proved to be 
the only child. She was evidently doted on by her 
father, and came in for his caresses; and I am not mis- 
taken when I say that she was beautiful and neatly 
dressed. And when I saw her leaning on her father's 



348 AN ARKANSAS STORY. 

shoulders, and running her fingers through his hair, 
and heard him speak to her in a subdued tone of voice, 
and with a smile upon his countenance, the thought 
came up, Can a robber love? and then I pitied the 
child, that she should be known as the daughter of a 
robber. Soon after, we were invited into the other 
room to supper. I had approached the table and just 
taken my seat; but seeing the little girl opposite to me 
hesitate before she would sit down, and directing her 
eye toward her father at the foot of the table, I turned 
my attention that way, when, to my utter astonish- 
ment, there was the man, whom up to that moment I 
had looked upon as a highway robber, with his eyes 
closed and his hands uplifted, just in the act of com- 
mencing to ask God to bless us, and the provision be- 
fore us to our good ! For a moment I could scarcely 
believe my own senses; I looked again, and either my 
optics or the man himself had undergone a most aston- 
ishing change. His countenance was open, honest, 
frank; his eyes were calm and benignant; and when 
he spoke to me and said, 'Now, do help yourself to 
any thing which you see before you,' his voice seemed 
as the voice of a friend, and its tones were those of 
confidence and kindness, and my appetite, which had 
given way under my apprehensions of evil, was in- 
stantly restored, and I partook bountifully of the pro- 
visions of the table, which, every thing considered, 
were remarkably good. The Lord knows that was the 
greatest blessing I ever heard. 

"After supper we joined in familiar conversation, 
and I found him to be a man of good natural mind 
and general information. He told me that he had but 
a short time previous emigrated from the State of 
Kentucky, where he was a member of the Methodist 



AN ARKANSAS STORY. 349 

Church, and I think he said he was a class-leader; 
that he had settled at the place where he then lived in 
order to superintend the opening of a road through the 
swamp, which work was soon to commence. He in 
turn learned from me that I had a wife and children at 
home, from whom I had been separated for months. 
In fact, I told him all about myself, for he really felt to 
me almost like a brother. 

"At length he observed that he supposed I was 
weary^ and wished to retire to rest, but went on to say 
that it was his custom to pray night and morning in 
his little family, but that I could retire at once, or re- 
main till after prayer. I had gained too much by a 
blessing to deny myself the benefit of a ijrayer. Ho 
read a portion of Scripture, and we all bowed down 
together, and I at least, for once in my life, got upon 
my knees with a right good grace. 

"And while he prayed to Almighty God to bless the 
weary traveler who was under his roof, to preserve his 
life and health, and bring him in safety to the bosom 
of his famJly, and that his wife and little ones might 
be kept in peace against his coming — if I were to say, 
gentlemen, that my eyes grew more moist than usual, I 
should tell no lie; in fact, I wept freely, and larger, 
purer tears never fell from my eyes. Gentlemen, there 
is a reality in religion, and it is useless to deny it; for, 
after all the fear and dreadful apprehensions of evil 
with which I had been troubled during the evening, 
Napoleon's army in its glory could not have made me 
feel so safe and secure during the night as did the 
blessing and prayer of that man; and there are mo- 
ments that come up in the history of every man, in 
which the claims of Christianity are felt, whether ac- 
knowledged or not." 



350 AN INDIAN LEGEND. 

From the conclusion to which he came — that there is 
a reality in the Christian religion, and that it was use- 
less to deny it — I was pleased to find that there was 
not one present disposed to dissent. isis. 



An Indian Legend. 

There is no small difficulty in obtaining correct in- 
formation as to those things that make up the true 
character of Indians. They are secretive, distrustful, 
and, in the presence of strangers, generally silent; so 
that, by traveling through a tribe, very little informa- 
tion can be obtained. Those only are prepared to gain 
a correct knowledge of Indian character who have be- 
come identified with them, and lived a sufficient length 
of time with a tribe to enable them to observe their 
peculiar customs and habits at different seasons of the 
year. 

The legend to which I shall direct the attention of 
the reader is intimately connected with a pastime 
which used to be more common among the aborigines 
of this country than at present. It was the only kind 
of gambling that I observed in the tribes with which 
I have been acquainted — "the ball-play." It is not 
only a game of hazard, but a sport of the most manly 
character. The play is not of frequent occurrence, but 
when it does come off, it always produces considerable 
excitement, sometimes being the occasion of the as- 
semblage of thousands of persons. I will attempt a 
description of these plays, numbers of which I have 
witnessed. 

The contending parties always consist of twelve on 
a side — twenty-four in all; chosen men, selected from 



AN INDIAN LEGEND. 351 

among the most athletic in the nation. Each side is 
headed by one who is captain, or principal man. The 
ball used on such occasions is generally made of the 
common spunk obtained from the knots of trees, or 
some soft, dry root, rounded ; and in either case it is 
always covered with dressed buckskin, and about the 
size of a walnut with the hull on. The ball is never 
to be touched with the hands, but is caught, held, and 
thrown with a set of sticks made expressly for the 
purpose. The ball-stick is made in the following man- 
ner: A piece of tough wood about six feet long and 
near the size of a walking-stick is selected ; midway 
of the stick it is reduced to about one-half the size of 
the ends, then bent until these ends are brought to- 
gether, forming a bow, or something in shape like the 
bowl of a spoon. The two ends are wrapped together 
from the bowl with a leather string, so as to form a 
handle; the bowl being made by fastening buckskin 
strings to the wood, and crossing each other, forming 
small meshes, and left loose so as to bag a little. The 
ball-stick when finished, may be compared to a spoon, 
with a handle nearly three feet long and a bowl about 
the size of a man's hand. Each man has two sticks — 
one in each hand. 

When the surface of the land is suitable, the play- 
ground is generally laid oif from east to west, and four 
poles are placed from a quarter to half a mile from 
each other. The two poles at each end of the play- 
ground are set up about twenty paces apart, and the 
ball has to pass between them for each count of one in 
the game. Across the center of the ground a line is 
drawn ; the players who wish to drive the ball between 
the western poles taking their position about twenty 
yards east of this line, while their contestants occupy 



352 AN INDIAN LEGEND. 

a like stand on the opposite side. When the two cap- 
tains take their position at the division line the ball is 
placed upon the ground on this center line. It is then 
taken up by one of these captains, with his sticks, and 
thrown up thirty or forty feet; which is the signal for 
the opening of the game. As the ball descends these 
two leaders contend for it, each bounding as high as he 
can to catch it in its descent; their sticks rattling and 
cracking together in the contest. When these captains 
are about equally matched in strength and expertness 
in the game, the struggle may be long and fierce, and 
is continued until both become exhausted, before get- 
ing the ball started toward either of the poles. At 
other times the ball is caught in its descent, and hurled 
with great rapidity toward the poles; but no matter 
what direction it takes, it is to meet the opposition of 
eleven players who have taken their stand in that di- 
rection, by one of whom it is sure to be caught and 
hurled back; and I have seen it pass back and forth in 
this way for minutes together. At other times I have 
seen the whole twenty-four contending pell-mell to- 
gether for several seconds, while a spectator could not 
tell where the ball was. Again, I have seen the whole 
party take a right-angular direction to the poles, in 
consequence of the hand being interrupted at the mo- 
ment of throwing the ball, and thus work away until 
they were entirely without the limits of the play- 
ground and had to be recalled by the judges. 

There is no time for resting from the moment the 
ball is thrown up at the center line until it passes be- 
tween the poles at one or the other end of the grounds, 
unless the judges call them oif for recess; and never 
have I seen human beings so much fatigued as at tjjc 
end of one of these strains. 



AN INDIAN LEGEND. 353 

One thing extremely objectionable in these plays is 
this: Any one of the party is allowed to "double up" 
his antagonist, notwithstanding they are not permitted 
to strike, scratch, or bruise each other in any way; yet 
the practice they have of doubling each other is very 
injurious, and is done in the following manner: One 
will catch his antagonist, throw him upon his back, 
take him by the feet, elevate them, and press his head 
and shoulders upon the ground until the poor fellow 
is disabled in the back. This practice results some- 
times in rendering the player so utterly helpless that 
he has to be carried oif the grounds. 

The only clothing worn in a ball-play is the belt, with 
a piece of some kind of goods about eighteen inches 
square appended in front; but they generally come 
out of these games, so far as clothing is concerned, 
about as they came into the world. 

There are always in reserve the same number that 
are engaged in the play, so that when one is disabled 
another may take his place, and thus the full number 
of twenty-four be kept up. There are two sets of 
judges — six for and six against, who take their posi- 
tions at the poles at each end of the ground. The ball 
has to pass twelve times between the same poles before 
the game is finished. 

The following is the legend to which I wish to direct 
the attention of the reader: Long ago the Shawnees 
and Osages were neighbors, and were decidedly two of 
the most powerful tribes in all the West, both as war- 
riors and hunters. The line dividing these two na- 
tions, according to tradition, was somewhere about the 
Platte River. These two tribes agreed to meet in a na- 
tional ball -play. The stakes were a strip of country 
bordering on the line, the wliole length of the line, 



354 AN INDIAN LEGEND. 

and a day's journey in width, which is about twelve 
miles. The reader may think it strange that a day's 
journey among the Indians is so short a distance, when 
it is known that an Indian can travel from forty to 
fifty miles in a day. An ordinary day's journey is the 
distance that a hunting-party will travel in a day 
with their wives, children, and luggage, which will 
range from ten to fifteen miles. They seldom make 
more than one stage in the day, and being naturally 
indolent, they are certain to stop as soon as they be- 
come tired; and wherever an Indian pitches his tent 
he will spend at least one night. 

This national ball-play was an occasion of no com- 
mon interest; no doubt a great proportion of both na- 
tions was present, and possibly thousands from neigh- 
boring tribes were also in attendance. The poles were 
the distance of four arrow-shots apart. An arrow-shot 
is about four hundred yards, if the hunting-boAV is 
meant, and about two hundred with the war-bow. The 
war-bow is sprung by the hand alone, consequently it 
has not more than half the force of the hunting-bow, 
which requires the strength of the hands and the feet; 
the Indian, sitting upon the ground, placing his feet 
against the bow, takes hold of the string with both 
hands at the point where the arrow is applied, so that 
the strength of the whole body is employed in spring- 
ing the bow. The genuine Indian hunting-bow is, 
therefore, an instrument of prodigious power, with 
which they are able to shoot an arrow entirely through 
a buffalo at the distance of a hundred yards. As it is 
most likely that the hunting-bow is meant, the dis- 
tance must have been about one mile. The game is 
said to have lasted a moon and a day, and the prize 
to have been won by the Osagcs. 



AN INDIAN LEGEND. 355 

In the portion of country won by the Osagcs there 
was buried the mother of the chief of the Shawnee 
nation, and with her much of her wealth, such as 
embroidered leather and w^ampum, the latter being 
nothing more nor less than beads — no matter what 
they are composed of — and such pearl as they were 
able to obtain from shells. The Shawnee chief no 
doubt often thought that if the Osages knew of the val- 
uables which were buried with his mother they would 
disinter her for the purpose of obtaining them. 

This chief awoke one morning and sat upon his mat 
and wept. All knew that he was in deep sorrow, for 
tears are not often shed by an Indian chief; yet no one 
spoke to him or asked any question in regard to his 
distress, for it is the custom among Indians not to 
annoy any one with questions at such a time. He con- 
tinued fasting and weeping until about sunset, when 
he issued an order for the assembling of the men of 
the lodges in his immediate neighborhood, to whom he 
distributed the w^impum of war, which is a string of 
beads stained with blood. 

When a chief puts the wampum of war into the 
hands of a warrior for distribution, there is no time to 
be lost. If he should be found closing the eyes of his 
dying father, or taking a bride, no matter, he must go, 
and go instantly. Mountains and rivers may be in his 
way, still the dispatch has to go, and the message put 
into his hands always states the names and the num- 
bers of the chiefs to be visited. 

In three days there was a sufficient number of chiefs 
assembled to hold a council of war. They came and 
took their seats around the afflicted chief, and sat in 
profound silence like the comforters of old who came 
to condole with Job. After sitting thus for one day 



356 AN INDIAN LEGEND. 

looking upon ench other, the disconsolate chief at last 
made signs for his pipe, which was liglited and handed 
him. He took a few whiffs, started it around the cir- 
cle, and then broke the long silence by saying: 

"Five nights ago, when deep sleep was upon me, my 
mother came to me wet with the dews of the night, 
and told me that the Osages had driven her from her 
resting-place and robbed her of her treasures, and that 
she would never rest again until she was avenged upon 
her enemies. I tried to awake, but could not! My 
mother seemed grieved that I did not arouse, and up- 
braided me for sleeping, while she had no place to rest 
her head, but, like a wild beast, had to roam about the 
woods without a shelter; and she then asked me if I 
had forgotten the paj^s that gave me suck, the arms in 
which I was so often embraced, and the hands which 
directed my steps in early childhood. Again I tried to 
awake, but could not; my sleep seemed heavy — like 
the sleep of a stone. Then my mother came nearer 
and leaned over me, and, looking down upon me w^ith 
tears in her old eyes, laid her cold, damp hand upon 
my arm — the touch was like that of frost; and the 
tears from her eyes which fell upon me were freezing 
cold. The blood in my veins all got chilly and ran 
back upon my heart, and, thinking I was dying, I made 
a mighty struggle and sprang from my bed. Taking 
me by the hand, my mother led me to see what the en- 
emy had done to her. It was winter — there was much 
snow on the ground. We went over mountains and 
wide prairies; the wind roared around me so that I 
could scarcely hear any thing; while she carried me 
so fast I could not see any thing clearly until I got to 
her grave. I found it uncovered, and all the treas- 
ures gone. My heart got sick, and I began to weep. 



AN INDIAN LEGEND. 357 

M;^ mother said to me, 'Are you not a man. a warrior? 
why should you weep? yonder is the enemy; go and 
punish him!' I looked, and saw the Osages dancing 
and singing, wearing the jew^els of my motlier. In a 
moment the coldness passed off, I grew hot, my spirit 
beat high within my whole body, I became strong, and, 
bounding forward to rush upon the enemy, awoke." 

At this one of the chiefs sprang to his feet and said 
he felt the pulses beating in his bow,' and that it was 
getting so strong that unless he shot an arrow it would 
break the string; another declared that his war-club 
was struggling so beneath his belt that he had to hold 
it by both hands to keep it from jumping out; while a 
third stated that his arrow-head was burning at such 
a rate with thirst for blood that it was red-hot. This 
was followed by a general war-whoop; and in seven 
days they were down upon the Osages like a thunder- 
clap, and a war commenced which lasted a hundred 
years. 

This legend, if true, shows what small matters may 
give rise to a long and bloody war; and I doubt not 
that there was some original fact which gave rise to it, 
from the uniform manner in which the story is told by 
Indians of different tribes. It is very evident that the 
Shawnees have long been accustomed to the art of war, 
from the fact that the very first thing a Shawnee 
mother teaches her infant son is, that he is to be a war- 
rior and a chief; so that the Shawnees are a nation of 
chiefs; and it is a singular fact that for the last hun- 
dred years or more, whenever two Indian tribes have 
been at war, Shawnee chiefs have led their warriors to 
battle on both sides. War seems to be their trade, and 
they work wherever they can get a job; and at one 
time no kind of death was considered honorable by a 



358 A WESTERN STORY. 

Shawnee but that of being killed in battle. What a 
poor creature is man when left to the dictates of nat- 
ure! and behold "how great a matter a little fire kin- 
dleth!" 1847. 



A Western Story. 

Georgia is one of the warm, cotton-producing States, 
the white population of which fill the offices in Church 
and State, and transact the mercantile business of the 
country. 

Mr. Henry Lossley was the son of a gentleman who 
was in but moderate circumstances. He was reared 
among Southern planters, and received a fair educa- 
tion and some knowledge of book-keeping, having 
spent a few months at the house of K., in the town of 
A. In the nineteenth year of his age he became at- 
tached to Miss Mary Lansing — a lady of some accom- 
plishments and great personal beauty, but whose patri- 
mony was small. Mr. Lossley and Miss Lansing were 
frequently in each other's company, and every time 
they met their mutual fondness increased. They often 
spoke of their aflPection for each other, and lamented 
that their prospects were not such as to justify a con- 
nection for life. Thus matters went on with them for 
several years, until at length, finding it impossible for 
them to be happy imless in each other's society, they 
determined to cast their lot together; and if they should 
not be able to move through life in the style they would 
wish, at all events they could support themselves de- 
cently; so they were united by that tie which is the 
most sacred and endearing that can be formed in this 
life. 

For some months after their union they did not feel 



A WESTERN STORY. 359 

sensible of their want of pecuniary means; but it soon 
became evident that they would have to gain support 
by actual labor; and it was also certain that in that 
country they could not do more than obtain a mere 
subsistence and be without a permanent home; and 
these conditions of life they were not willing to endure. 
It was thought best that Mr. Lossley should travel into 
a new country, purchase a piece of land, make some 
improvements on it, and then return to conduct his 
companion to their neAv home. Many were the anxious 
thoughts that filled their minds. The husband had his 
fears lest he should fail to obtain a pleasant home for 
the beloved one whom he was about to leave behind; 
and the wife already began to count the months, the 
weeks, and even the days, she should be left, as it were, 
alone in the world ; while, on the other hand, they both 
looked forward to the time when, in a new country, 
growing with its growth, and strengthening with its 
strength, they should rise to a state of importance in 
the world. 

The time of separation at last arrived ; and Mr. Loss- 
ley, after embracing his best of all earthly friends, gave 
the parting hand, and commenced his journey, not 
knowing certainly whither he was going. lie went to 
the State of Kentucky, and was about contracting for a 
piece of land, in the neighborhood of where the town 
of H. now stands, when he availed himself of an op- 
portunity of writing a few lines to his wife, to let her 
know where he was and what he was doing. 

This letter never reached the hands of the beloved 
object for whom it was intended, but fell into the hands 
of one w^hose name will be "revealed in that day." 
Suffice it to say, there was one with whom Mr. Lossley 
luid been a competitor. An answer came, not from Mrs. 



3G0 A WESTERN STORY. 

Lossley, but apparently from her father, with whom she 
remained during her husband's absence. O horrid let- 
ter! never shall its language be forgotten : 

^^Dear Son: Your wife took sick about a week after 
your departure. At first we did not entertain any fears 
concerning her. After some days her brain became 
affected, and she lost her reason, and while in this situ- 
ation called every person who was in attendance upon 
her and came to visit her, 'Henry!' A short time be- 
fore her death she came to herself, and seemed to have 
but one desire to live, which was to see you; and her 
last sentence was, 'O my dear Henry! and shall I see 
him no more in this life?' and breathed her last." 

On the reception of this letter Mr. Lossley became 
almost desperate His whole amount of earthly good 
seemed to be cut off at one stroke. He made several 
attempts to answer the letter, but found it impossible 
to write on so painful a subject. He became a solitary 
man — being in a land of strangers — and had no jjerson 
to whom he could unbosom himself; and though grief 
is fond of company, yet he had to bear his alone. The 
thought of returning to the place where he had so often 
beheld the fair face and lovely form of his now lost 
Mary, without being able to see her, he could not en- 
dure; and having left but little behind save his com- 
panion that was of any consequence to hitn, he gave up 
the idea of returning. Neither had he an}^ disposition 
to locate himself; and finding that he could better sus- 
tain his grief by traveling than in any other way, he 
wandered off, without any settled point of destination. 
At length he found himself at the Lead Mines in Mis- 
souri; but he yet beheld objects that reminded him of 
his loss, which induced him to sink still deeper into the 
bosom of the great forest. So he joined himself to a 



A WESTERN STORY. 361 

company of fur-traders, and shaped his course for the 
Rocky Mountains. 

It was the custom of the company to post a watch at 
night — a duty which' was performed by each man in his 
turn — and for some time Lossley volunteered his serv- 
ices every night; so that while his companions were 
asleej^ he would look on the moon and stars that once 
shone on him and his fair one leaning on his arm. when 
they used to take their evening excursions. The scream 
of the panther did not disturb him, while for the lam- 
entations of the owl he had a particular fondness; and 
for months rarely did he depart from a camping-place 
without leaving the letters "]\I. L." on one of the pre- 
viously unscarred trees of the forest. 

He remained nearly two years among the Korth- 
western Indians. The hardships he endured, and the 
dangers through which he passed, had a tendency to 
divert his mind from former sorrows, and the females 
that he sometimes looked upon were so unlike his 
Mary that by the time he returned to Missouri he had 
in some degree regained his former cheerfulness. But 
no sooner did he enter the settlements, where he again 
beheld fair faces and graceful forms, than a recollection 
of his departed glory returned. The roll of years, 
however, wore away his grief; and at last finding an 
object upon whom he could place his affections, he 
again entered into a married connection. From the 
time that he left his companion in Georgia until he 
married his second wife was about five years. 

But what shall we say of Mrs. Lossley? for, strange 
to tell, she yet lived. Weeks, months, and years had 
rolled by, but had brought no tidings of her absent 
husband. Post-offices were examined, but no letter 
came; his name was looked for in the public prints, but 
IG 



362 A WESTERN STORY. 

could not be found; travelers were inquired of, but to 
no avail — not a word could she hear of him. At length 
she gave him up as dead, and conceived of his death in 
many ways. At one time she would fancy she could 
see his bones at the bottom of some stream in which he 
had been drowned while attempting to cross; again she 
could see him in some lonely spot, murdered by rob- 
bers or destroyed by Indian violence; and at other 
times she saw him languish on some foreign bed, and 
after a lingering illness fall into an obscure grave among 
strangers. A thousand times she looked out the way 
she saw him depart, and mourned him dead till time 
had dried away her tears. 

After the lapse of more than seven years from the 
departure of Mr. Lossley, Mr. Starks offered his hand 
in marriage to Mrs. Lossley; and as it was firmly be- 
lieved by herself and friends that Mr. Lossley was 
dead, and Mr. Starks being a gentleman worthy of her, 
she accepted the offer, and they were married. 

At this time Mr. Lossley was living with his second 
wife in the State of Missouri, where he continued to 
live for nearly eighteen years. About fourteen years 
after his marriage his second wife died, and he was left 
with two children — a son and a daughter. The daugh- 
ter was the eldest, and took charge of her father's 
house; but in little more than three years after the 
death of her mother she married, and removed to North 
Alabama, and her father and little brother went with 
her. 

In the meantime Mrs. Starks had lost her husband 
and father, and having but one child — a little daughter 
— she also removed to North Alabama, to live with an 
aged uncle, who resided i-n that part of the country; 
80 that Mr. Lossley and Mrs. Starks became neighbors, 



A WESTERN STORY. 363 

and they again became acquainted with each other as 
Col. Lossle}'' (this title he had obtained while among 
the fur-traders) and Mrs. Starks. They soon formed a 
friendship for each other, and Col. Lossley eventually 
offered her his hand in marriage, which she accepted. 
It is to be observed that during the whole of their in- 
tercourse they both took great care never to mention 
any circumstance connected with their first marriage, 
and both passed for having been married but once. 
They had been so very cautious on this subject that not 
the slightest trace of their former acquaintance was 
discovered until the night before the marriage was to 
have been solemnized. 

Perhaps the sacred font of their former sorrows was 
too deeply sealed to be readily broken up again by 
either of them. 

The night before marriage, as they were conversing 
alone, the Colonel remarked that he expected to be a 
little frightened on the next evening, adding, "With 
me, the older the worse; for when I Avas married the 
first time I was not so much embarrassed as when I 
was married last." To which Mrs. Starks replied, 
"You have been married twice^ it seems." The Colonel 
tried at first to change the subject of the conversation, 
but soon found that would not do; and knowing it 
would have to come out, soon or late, he went into a 
detail of all the circumstances connected with his first 
marriage, giving names and dates. This was a subject 
on which the Colonel was eloquent. He said that his 
long-lost Mary was never out of his mind for one hour 
at a time, and cited the fact that he often spoke of her 
to those who had never heard of her, and could not 
enter into the conversation with him. He went on to 
state that she was his Rachel — his first choice — the 



364 A WESTERN STORY. 

companion of his youth; having taken hold upon his 
affections at such an early age, the impression was in- 
delible, and the memorj^ of her name never could be 
erased from his mind. "And though," said he, "I have 
l^assed through the town, the country, the wilderness, 
through winter, through summer, amid friends and 
foes, through health and afflictions, through smiles and 
frowns, yet I have ever borne painted upon my imag- 
ination the image of my beloved Mary." Here the 
tears began to gather in the eyes of the Colonel, and 
for a few moments a death-like stillness prevailed. At 
length, looking upon his intended bride, he saw that 
she had taken more than usual interest in the story 
he had been relating. He then broke the silence by 
saying, "You must forgive me for the kind remem- 
brance I bear for the beloved companion of my youth." 
While he was uttering this sentence, Mrs. Starks 
swooned away, and would have fallen from her seat 
had not the Colonel supported her. While she lay in 
this death -like state many were the reflections which 
passed through the mind of Col. Lossley, especially the 
thought that as he had for a time kept this secret from 
her, and had at last divulged it without intending to do 
so, it might have a tendenc}^ to destroy her confidence 
in him, or cause her to fear that his affections were so 
much placed upon the memory of his first wife that it 
would be impossible for him to love her as he ought. 
This and many other thoughts rushed through his 
mind, and he but awaited the return of the power of 
utterance to Mrs. Starks to hear her renounce him for- 
ever. But, O how groundless were his fears! No 
sooner was she aroused from her swoon than she threw 
her arms around his neck, and, resting her head upon 
his bosom, sobbed like a child, crying out, "O my hus- 



A stranger's grave. 365 

band! my husband ! " The Colonel, much astonished, 
rather hastily inquired what she meant. With her 
hands still resting on his shoulders, with a countenance 
beaming* with joy and suffused with tears, and with a 
half-choked utterance, she exclaimed, " I am your Mary, 
3^our long-lost Mary! and you are my Henry, whom I 
have mourned as dead these twenty years!" 

The joy then became mutual. That night and the 
next day were spent in relating the events which had 
occurred to them during their separation, and in ad- 
miring the Providence that had reunited them. On 
the next evening those bidden to the marriage assem- 
bled; the parson came — but there was no ceremony to 
be performed. The transported couple informed the 
guests that they had been lawfully married upward of 
twenty years before, and gave a brief outline of their 
history, and entered into the hilarity of the evening 
with a degree of cheerfulness unusual to them both; 
and I will close by saying they are now doing well for 
time and for eternity. • i835. 



A Stranger's Grave. 

A FEW evenings ago I took a walk in the town of 

C . In my ramble I passed the solemn place where 

the dead are buried, which is not where it should be. 
Although in the early improvement of the place it was 
some distance from any residence, its solitude and so- 
lemnity are now interrupted by the beauties of art 
and the mansions of the living, which surround it. As 
I turned to ga;?e for a few moments upon the monu- 
ments which speak of departed worth, T beheld two 
servants in silence preparing a new grave, and, upon 



366 A stranger's grave. 

■« 
inquiring who was to be buried there, was informed 

that it was a Mr. B., a stranger, who had neither family, 
rehition, nor friend, except those friends he had made 
during a short sojourn in a strange hind. I pursued 
my walk, spent a social hour with a friend, and then 
passed on to an humble cottage, the inhabitants of 
which were deeply afflicted, but breathing the spirit 
of submission, devotion, and happiness — treasures 
often deposited with the poor beneath dark clouds of 
affliction. After participating in the joys of this fam- 
ily, who were "rich in faith," and feeling that it was 
good to "go to the house of mourning," I returned to 
my room, forgetful of the departed stranger, until the 
tolling of the bell the next morning announced the 
approach of the hearse, followed by a few gentlemen 
in slow procession. I accompanied the cortege until 
we came to the place of interment, when the remains 
were lowered into the grave. All was as still as the 
hush of death; no expressions of sorrow were heard; 
no tears were seen to fall- and bedew the memory of 
the dead; deep solemnity hung upon every counte- 
nance, but was only put on for the moment, to pay a 
small tribute of respect to the departed stranger. 
Near the grave stood a venerable man of God, who 
broke the silence by making a few appropriate re- 
marks. He spoke not of the virtues or piety of the 
deceased — for his sun went down behind a cloud; in 
reference to his follies he said, "We will throw the 
mantle of charity around these, and hxiYj them in ob- 
livion." Of his future state he ventured not a word. 
But to the living he spoke of earth's poverty, the un- 
certainty of life, and the importance of a preparation 
for the great and solemn change to which all are has- 
tening; he pointed them to the bar of Grod, spoke of 



A stranger's grave. 367 

the dread realities of eternity; and then addressed the 
throne of grace in our behalf; after which the grave 
was filled, and we all silently withdrew and left the 
stranger to his repose. 

Being myself a stranger in the town, far from the 
place of my nativity, the home of my friends, my feel- 
ings were of rather a pensive character, and my mind 
was directed to the following lines from Greenwood, 
as being in harmony with my spirit at the time: 

"It is a sad thing to feel that we must die away from 
our home. Tell not the invalid who is yearning after 
his distant home that the atmosphere around him is 
soft, that the gales are filled with balm, and the flowers 
are springing from the green earth; lie knows that the 
softest air to his heart would be the air that hangs over 
his native home; that more grateful than all the gales 
of the South would breathe the low whispers of anx- 
ious affection; that the very icicles clinging to his own 
house, and the snow beating against his own windows, 
would be far more pleasant to his eyes than the bloom 
and verdure which only the more forcibly reminds 
him how far he is from the one spot which is dearer to 
him than the world beside." 

When fond memory lingers around the place of my 
early joys, calls up the associations of past life, and 
leads me to the homes of ray dear relations and nu- 
merous friends whom I have left far away, and when I 
reflect upon the discouraging circumstances with which 
I am often surrounded, the heavy tide of sorrow passes 
over my soul, and the burning tear falls from my weep- 
ing eyes. But when I reflect that our Saviour was a 
stranger — an itinerant preacher; that the Lord of 
glory had not where to lay his head; that the apostles 
labored and suffered to spread the unsearchable riches 



368 A TORNADO. 

of Christ; and when I turn my attention to our fath- 
ers, who have gone as a flame of fire in the front of the 
battle through the great South-west, where I behold 
the fields white unto harvest, and hear the constant 
cry, "Come over and help us!" I forget my privations 
and sorrows, and rejoice that I am counted worthy to 
stand in the front ranks of Israel's army, where I fear 
not even a stranger's grave. 1835, 



A Tornado. 

As MANY descriptions of storms have been written, I 
shall not at present attempt any thing more than a 
brief account of one of those terrible tornadoes which 
sometimes visit our part of the country. These storms 
generally occur about the time the sun is passing the 
equinox. 

On Saturday, March 22, 1 spent the day some eight or 
ten miles west of or below Clarksville, Montgomery 
county. During the morning the weather was quite 
calm, and warm for the season ; toward noon the clouds 
began to fly swiftly, and there were occasional showers 
of rain, very similar to those with which we are blessed 
during the months of April and May. At about three 
o'clock P.M. the rain ceased, the wind subsided, and 
until nearly sunset there Avas scarcely a breath of air 
stirring. 

There was an appointment made for preaching at 
Col. H. H. Brj^an's for the night, which I attended. 
About the going down of the sun I discovered, in a 
westwardly direction, an unusual accumulation of 
clouds, through which the sun had been struggling for 
hours, and which, after sunset, was fitfully illuminated 



A TORNADO. 369 

by brilliant flashes of lightning; and the moan of dis- 
tant thunder fell upon the ear. The congregation was 
soon gathered; divine service commenced, and for more 
than an hour afterward I knew nothing of the progress 
of the storm, except that the lightning flashed more 
frequently and the thunder rolled heavier. The meet- 
ing was hastened to a close, that the congregation might 
get home before the rain came on; some departed in 
haste, and others, from fear of being overtaken by the 
storm, remained. By this time the wind began to blow 
violently, and seemed to be increasing in fury every 
minute. At length an unusual moan, which seemed to 
come from the earth beneath my feet, attracted my at- 
tention. I went to the door in order to see, if I could, 
the appearance of the tumult without; and for about 
ten minutes the most awfully grand sight that I had 
ever beheld passed before my eyes. The very earth 
seemed to groan at the approach of the tempest; the 
lightning-flashes were of such an intensity and dura- 
tion that at times the darkness of the night was turned 
into more than the brightness of the day. There was 
a continuous roll of thunder, broken every five or ten 
seconds by tremendous peals, like signal -guns of an 
army shouting in battle. A strange-looking object — I 
scarcely know what to call it, for it would not convey 
the idea to call it a cloud — came moving on slowly from 
west to east, like some great giant with his scythe, cut- 
ting a broad swath through the forest-trees, as a reaper 
mows the grain in a harvest-field. I soon saw that the 
house which sheltered me would be visited by only the 
outer edge of the storm. By the incessant glare of the 
lightning I was enabled to see the work of the hurri- 
cane probably better than I could have seen it in the 
day. During the greater part of the time it had the 
16* 



370 A TORNADO. 

appearance, possibly, of a city on fire. The clouds 
were heaving and tossing in every direction, like bil- 
lows of smoke issuing from burning buildings; and 
from the earth to the very heavens the air was filled 
with the branches of trees and other objects gathered 
by the tornado in its march. In its front ranks the 
most wonderful operations were to be seen going on ; 
the large oaks, poplars, and beeches were obedient to 
the first touch; there was no rocking of the trees from 
side to side; but in the direction in which they first be- 
gan to lean, that way they fell without any kind of 
hesitation. 

The tornado crossed the Cumberland Eiver about 
twelve miles below Clarksville, traveled up the river in 
an easterly direction, and crossed again about four 
miles above Chirksville, laying waste everything in its 
course. The trees were uprooted, except some which 
dipped their roots so deep into the earth as to resist the 
storm; but the trunks of even these had to yield, and 
they were twisted in two, without any kind of cere- 
mony, as though He who rides upon the storm designed 
them as riding-switches to drive the steeds that bear 
onw^ard the thundering car of destruction. Houses, 
framed, log, and brick, were alike demolished, w^hcn 
in the pathway of this destructive engine. Fathers, 
mothers, and children w^ere roused from the slumbers 
of night by the approach of the storm, as by the tread 
of an earthquake, and before any attempt could be 
made to fly to a place of safety, they found themselves 
buried in the ruins of their buildings. 

After crossing the river the second time, I have 
heard, the tornado traveled for some distance along the 
road leading from Clarksville to Port Eoyal, carrying 
ruin and destruction in its course. Brick buildings 



A TORNADO. 371 

were razed to their very foundations, and log houses 
drifted about as though they were heaps of corn-stalks, 
while framed buildings were scattered to the winds in 
almost every direction. The amount of damage done 
by this tempest I know not; for I have not been in- 
formed from whence it came or whither it has gone. 
The citizens of Clarksville were employed all day on 
Sabbath last, following the track of the storm, and re- 
lieving those injured by it, in every way they could — 
gathering up the scattered furniture, bearing off the 
wounded to neighboring houses, where they could re- 
ceive the attention which their condition required, and 
in making provision for the burial of the dead. I have 
been informed that some remained buried in the ruins 
of their buildings from ten o'clock p.m. till eight or nine 
the next morning, and others found themselves lying 
upon the ground, at some distance from their houses, 
without knowing how they were borne there. 

I think it due to the inhabitants of Clarksville to say 
here that they deserve great credit for their prompt 
and untiring attention to the distressed and wounded. 

Since my boyhood I have desired to see a storm of 
this kind; but he who sees it once will desire to see it 
no more, or even to hear the sound thereof. At one 
time the darkness was as black as ink, and then sheets 
of flame were thrown around the clouds and over the 
earth, which seemed to scathe the eye that looked upon 
them. The falling, dashing rain, the descending hail- 
stones, the terrible fla2:>pings of the wings of the wind, 
the constant rumble of the thunder, like the rolling of 
wheels of the car upon which the tempest triumphantly 
rode, and the convulsive trembling of the affrighted 
earth, made a spectacle most awful to contemplate and 
unequaled in its sublime grandeur. Great God! what 



372 THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 

is the power of man when thy wrath is kindled but a 
little? 

The storm is past; but its footprints shall be seen by 
a generation yet unborn. Almighty G-od, prepare us 
for that storm which shall make creation a wreck, and 
drift us before thy bar for trial ! 1835. 



The Twins and Their Angels. 

[This paper accompanied an engraving in the Home Cii^cle, rep- 
resenting two angels watching over twin-children asleep.] 

The subject of this engraving is so full of the deli- 
cate, the beautiful, and the mild, that to enable one to 
write about it appropriately many things are neces- 
sary; it seems to me that it would require a peculiar 
season of the year. When the year is growing old, 
and the trees have thrown off their summer robes, and 
every leaf, and bud, and flower is withered and dry, 
w^ould not be an auspicious time to write of youth, 
beauty, and innocence. 

Then, there is something in the place. To be sur- 
rounded by the busy world, where multitudes are 
struggling together for gain — where nothing wins but 
cunning, daring, and strength; where falsehood and 
crime of every kind offend the eye and ear, and you are 
allowed to think only of taking care of yourself — who 
could write of angels and children in such a place? 

But give me the mildest eve that summer ever gave, 
with not a breathless calm, but a gentle, soft-moaning 
air. Let not the spot be wild and lonely, nor yet too 
much disturbed and spoiled by art; still, there must be 
a human habitation; children must have a home. I 
want fields, also — not wide and sunburnt, though wide 



THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 373 

enough to insure competence, well laid off, and thickly 
set with growing grass and yellow grain, and stocked 
with flocks and herds sufficient to fill the bill of nature's 
draft. I must have groves, also — not tall, and dense, 
and gloomy, but young and growing trees, full of life 
and foliage, with flowers, and clustering vines, and 
sweet-scented shrubs, and winding walks, neatly made 
and cleanly swept, yet without much show of cost; for 
I do not wish to think of wealth and poverty. I want 
neither a palace nor a hut. Give me music, also — not 
the sound of brass nor the deep tones of an organ, but 
the songs of birds and the fall of a neighboring stream. 
I ask not for the scream of the eagle in search of prey, 
but for the soft notes of timid birds; not the roar of 
Niagara, but the murmur of some small, gentle stream, 
that comes to slake my thirst, cool the air, and beautify 
the land. 

And now let me forget all unkind feelings, all ene- 
mies, all wrong, anger, hate, envy, all the unholy brood 
of kindred feelings — keep them far from me. And now 
to my delightful task; let me dwell awhile with angels 
and children. 

An angel is a spiritual, intelligent substance, sup- 
posed by manj^ to be the first in rank and dignity 
among created beings. The word angel is not properly 
a denomination of nature^ but of office^ denoting a mes- 
senger, a person employed to carrj^ orders. St. Paul 
calls angels ministering spirits; yet the word is now 
everywhere regarded as the denomination of a partic- 
ular order of spiritual beings, of great understanding 
and power. 

With regard to the existence of angels, there is not a 
doubt among those who believe in the truth of divine 
revelation. As to the relation they sustain to each 



374 THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 

other, we are not particularly advised. Divines have 
divided them into nine different orders, and reduced 
these orders into three hierarchies; to the first belong 
Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones; to the second. Do- 
minions, Yirtues, and Powers; to the third. Principali- 
ties, Archangels, and Angels. The Jews divided them 
into four orders: first, Michael; second, Gabriel; third, 
Uriel; fiDurth, Raphael ; and contend that all take rank 
under some one of these leaders. Though these are 
matters about which we know but little, still we are 
satisfied that there is something by which they are dis- 
tinguished from each other. The very thought that 
they are all perfectly alike — all of the same rank and 
order — is any thing but pleasant to the mind, which is 
always seeking after variety. 

We learn from the Scriptures that they dwell in the 
immediate presence of God ; that they excel in strength ; 
that they are immortal; and that they are the agents 
by which God accomplishes his special purjioses of 
judgment and merc}^. Few things are more frequently 
mentioned in the Scriptures than the missions of an- 
gels, emplo^^ed by the Almighty to disclose his will, to 
correct, teach, reprove, and comfort fallen man. 

There are various opinions with regard to the time 
when angels w^ere created. Some think it was when 
our heaven and earth were made; but for this opinion 
there is no foundation in the word of God, as I under- 
stand it. 

Speaking to Job, God said, "Where wast thou when 
I laid the foundations of the earth, and all the sons of 
God shouted for joy? " This shows clearly that angels 
are an order of beings who were in existence before 
our world w^as made. But those who believe that an- 
gels preside over the affairs of nations, countries, and 



THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 375 

individuals, and therefore worship or pray unto them, 
are nothing more nor less than idolaters. Angels do 
God's will, not their own; yet it is no doubt their 
greatest pleasure to do so. St. Paul says, "Are they 
not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to 
them that shall be heirs of salvation?" No matter 
how high in rank or order they may be, they are yet 
nothing more than ministering sj^irits, sent to do such 
service as God may require of them. It is not wonder- 
ful, therefore, that the artist should conceive of them 
as attendants on children. Here it is worthy of re- 
mark that, while it would be wicked to pray to angels, 
or seek their interference directly in matters pertain- 
ing to our salvation, yet there is much more propriety 
in doing so than there can be in praying to saints, who 
are nowhere represented as ministering spirits. 

But in looking at the engraving, we are ready to ask. 
Why are these angels here? why stand they and look 
so intently upon these little ones while taking their 
noontide nap? Are they merely visitors? Who are 
they? and from whence came they? We have already 
told you, reader, that they are a peculiar denomination 
of God's creatures, of ancient birth, who are said to 
excel in strength. Their home is in heaven; they are 
a part and parcel of the immediate family of the Great 
Eternal, and have been oftentimes on parade, to see 
how" w^orlds were made, before our planet received its 
birth. Still, we arc not to suppose that the angels of 
God have nothing to do but to put on their crowns, ad- 
just their robes, w^alk about the throne to ask the news, 
and talk about the signs of the times. Such would be 
an idle, useless, unprofitable life, which could not be 
either pleasant to them or pleasing to God. 

A lazy angel, that would spend one-half of the time 



376 THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 

in bed, and a large portion of the other half in dressing 
itself to receive a call from some other angel, and then 
talk the remainder of the time about the latest style of 
robes, as some of our earthly (would-be) angels do, 
would soon be turned out of heaven, on the charge of 
being a celestial loafer. 

Angels do not labor. Labor is peculiar to fallen 
creatures, and is one of the eifects of sin. But angels 
are employed, w^hich is no doubt their pleasure. How 
rational beings can be happy without feeling that they 
are useful in some way, I cannot conceive. There are 
no idlers in heaven — none living on the interest of 
their estates. It was probably the intention of the 
Almighty that all his intelligent creatures should be 
employed. Adam, in the garden of Eden, before the 
fall, was required to dress and keep it; and we doubt 
not that one part of the employment of angels is to 
watch over and take care of the weak and feeble in- 
habitants of earth. 

As to the amount of service rendered by angels, we 
know nothing more than what is revealed to us in the 
word of God; but we learn from the accounts given us 
there that there was, for at least four thousand years, a 
constant communication kept up between heaven and 
earth, through and by angelic visitations. But when 
the great plan of salvation was completed, and man 
was no longer under a theocracy'', their visible appear- 
ance ceased; and while we admit that they are still 
ministering spirits for those who shall be heirs of sal- 
vation, yet we do not think nor believe that in these 
days angel-visits are to be expected, as in those days 
when the plan of salvation was being made known to 
man; yet, as we approach the eternal world, in life's 
last hours, that impression which often seems to take 



THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 377 

possession of the mind of the dying Christian, that an- 
gels are in tlie room and around his bed, I tbink de- 
serves respect. 

With regard to the disposition of angels, we find 
I'rom various accounts that they take a deep and lively 
interest in the welfare of the inhabitants of this world. 
They alwaj^s manifested a strong desire to look into the 
plan of redemption, to study and understand it; and 
they did learn enough about it to cause them to rejoice 
exceedingly at the nativity of our Saviour; for they 
shouted, "Glory to God in the highest; and on earth 
peace, good-will toward men!" They have ever been 
found prompt and ready, under the sanction of Al- 
mighty God, to bestow benefits on man. 

As to their number, this is nowhere laid down in the 
word of God ; but it is everywhere admitted to be very 
great. The prophet says: "I beheld till the thrones 
were cast down, and the Ancient of days did sit. A 
fiery stream issued and came forth from before him; 
thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thou- 
sand times ten thousand stood before him." Two mill- 
ions ministered directly unto him, and one hundred 
millions stood before him; so that one hundred and 
two millions of these ministering spirits were under 
the eye of the prophet at one time; and we are also 
informed that seventy thousand were in attendance as 
a mere body-guard to our Saviour at the crucifixion. 

The reader will bear in mind that there is a marked 
difi'erence between the angels of heaven and the "An- 
gel of the Lord," which we hear of so frequently in the 
Old Testament. The Angel of the Lord is the title given 
to Christ before his advent into the world. This Angel 
appeared to Moses at Mount Sinai, and led the children 
of Israel through the wilderness. He also appeared to 



378 THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 

Abraham, Lot, Manoah, and others. But the "angels 
of heaven " came to conduct the Prophet Elijah and 
Lazarus to heaven, and were in crowds at the nativity 
and ascension of our Saviour, as well as at other times; 
and they are to be the reapers in the harvest-field of 
this world's ruin; for when God shall come to judge 
the world, the angels will be with him. Those who, in 
these days, attempt to have interviews with spirits, 
should try to invoke angels; they have long been in 
the habit of visiting our earth, and conferring with 
mortals, though always, we think, at the instance and 
by the authority of God himself; and if an angel were 
to come to me, without the authority of that God whom 
angels are bound to obey, I should not feel under any 
obligation to believe such a messenger; so that I have 
no hope of getting an angel to come and instruct me in 
heavenly or earthly things, unless I could prevail on 
God to send him. 

But the spirits of departed men and women do not 
belong to this ministering class or denomination of 
beings at all. The souls of bad men God knows how 
to reserve to the day of judgment, to be punished, while 
the souls of good men are with Christ, day and night, 
in the temple of God. They are "ever with the Lord;" 
thej^go in to "go out no more.'' The poet sang correctly 
when he said, in reference to the saints. 

Millions of forms all clothed in light, 
In garments of beauty clean and white — 
They dwell in their own immortal bowers, 
Mid countless hues of fadeless flowers, 
That bloom in that sun-bright clime. 

I think, dear reader, if you are not satisfied with the 
account that God has furnished you in his word of the 
future state, and you cannot get an angel to come to 



THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 379 

your aid, your case is a desperate one; you will never 
be able to invoke the spirits of your departed friends. 
Your next interview with them will, no doubt, be in 
the land of spirits. Man was at first placed here to be 
a denizen of this w^orld, not to wander back and forth 
from earth to heaven at will. By reason of sin our 
earth has become cursed, and God in his mercy is going 
to remove the good of earth to heaven, as an abiding 
home. After that man fell, angels became media of in- 
tercourse between heaven and earth. Their ministry 
continued for thousands of years, in connection with 
the patriarchs and prophets. Then Christ became the 
medium; and when he was about to take his seat in 
the heavens, he promised to keep uj) the connection, 
not by angels, prophets, or the spirits of good men, 
but by the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost is the medium 
now; yet I doubt not that the angels still visit our. 
world, and take an interest in the affairs of mortals, 
but not for the purpose of revealing the secrets of the 
future. 

That the artist should have selected the hour of 
sleep as a suitable time for the angels to make a near 
approach to the objects of their charge is, we think, 
perfectly correct. It is at least possible that the 
greatest difficulty that angels may have, in their inter- 
course with mortals, grows out of the j^resent organi- 
zation of humanity. Man being in part terrestrial, 
and the soul having to act through bodily organs, or 
sense, is doubtless embarrassing enough to those who 
enjoy perfect freedom of action, such as belongs to a 
pure spiritual existence. When we are in a waking 
state we are prepared to associate with mortals only; 
but when the body is asleep, and the action of the soul 
no longer depends upon the bodily organs, but acts 



380 THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 

freely and independently of them, such is a befitting 
season for angelic intercourse. 

We find in the case of Jacob, when in the wilderness 
of Becrsheba, being overtaken by the approach of 
night, he laid himself down upon the earth, resting his 
head upon a cold stone, and no doubt considered him- 
self cut off from intercourse with all created beings; 
and there, amid the stillness of night, and surrounded 
by an unbroken wilderness, he fell into a deep sleep, 
and during the hours of slumber the angels of heaven, 
in great numbers, called upon him. What the charac- 
ter of the conference between the angels and the spirit 
of Jacob was we know only in part; for, no doubt, the 
greater part of the scenes that happen at such a time 
are veiled from memory by the simple act of waking; 
and the private, interviews are, we suppose, generally 
kept a profound secret. Jacob, though, in this case, 
was permitted to recollect that while he slept the an- 
gels of heaven constructed a celestial stair-way from his 
humble pillow to the throne of God, and he was blessed 
with gifted sight long enough to see the angels de- 
scending and ascending, in crowds, from heaven to 
earth, and back to heaven again; and it maybe that 
while he slumbered thousands upon thousands came 
down and looked steadfastly upon the face of this noble 
man, and held communion with his spirit. 

What a grand and glorious privilege it was to be able 
to see this far-reaching ladder connecting heaven and 
earth, with those heavenly ones in shining rank, with 
rapid but easy haste, coming and returning and pass- 
ing each other in living streams! No wonder Jacob 
said, "God is in this place." 

You have seen a slumbering babe, before it was able 
to recognize its earthly parents, or receive thoughts or 



THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 381 

impressions from mortal beings in any way, with a rap- 
turous smile upon its face — sure evidence that its soul 
was transported with joy — and did you not think that 
an angel had whispered some pretty thing in its ear? 
It cannot be an earthly sight or sound that produces 
such pleasant emotion. What can be more delicate, 
sweet, or glorious than to talk with a young immortal, 
and tell it of heavenly things, and show it beautiful 
sights? Were I an angel, I think I should be delighted 
to be the first to unfold the secrets of the heavenly 
world to one who had just entered on the borders of 
God's creation. How familiar with sacred things that 
child must have been, of whom we heard of late, who, 
when lifted up to see the corpse of a little playmate, 
and after looking for a moment on the pale features of 
its little friend, kissed it fondly, and then softly whis- 
pered in its ear, "Give my love to God!" Who does 
not love a child? 

With respect to the engraving as a work of art wo 
have nothing to sa}^, not being able to judge of true 
merit in that department; but, with respect to the de- 
sign, we think there is a display of the purest taste. 
Nothing could be more chaste and lovely. No one, it 
seems to me, can look upon it and not have the kind- 
lier feelings of his nature to move within him. 

I suppose the two sleeping children are twin-sisters, 
and that they have been placed in their crib to take a 
midday nap. From their wardrobe I should judge that 
they belong to a medium condition in life. They have, 
evidently, a living mother, who has for them a mother's 
care. Their skin is clean, their hair without tangle, 
and their garments neat and comfortable. They do not 
appear remarkably handsome, but healthy and finc- 
lookinc:. 



382 THE TWINS AND THEIR ANGELS. 

The angel on the right, I should judge, has charge 
of the child nearest to you, and the angel on the left is 
the guardian of the other; and now, while mother and 
nurse arc away, and the children are sleeping sweetly, 
they liave made a near approach to the objects of their 
care, and are enjoying very much their intercourse with 
them. And now, reader, if you wish to know which 
character in the picture I prefer, I frankly confess I 
like the children best. Angels are mighty; they excel 
in strength; the children are feeble and helpless; an- 
gels are pure — that is, those you look upon are; the 
children are fallen and impure; the angels are from 
heaven; the children are of this earth; yet, notwith- 
standing all this, I like the children best. 

The marks of nobility and of the ultimate distinc- 
tion of humanity are much greater, we think, than the 
glory of angels. Angels, I grant, excel in strength; 
but when we compare the various points and traits of 
character in angels and men, and mark the difference 
between them, we think man must ultimately rise far 
above an angel's caste. 

There is among angels no such thing as parent and 
child, father and mother, sister and brother; each one 
is a character, individual and distinct. Man is repre- 
sentative and progressive. An angel is a simple nature; 
man has a complex nature; he is an immortal terres- 
trial — a compound of heaven and earth. Angels were 
created good, and so was every thing that God made; 
but man alone w^as created in the image and likeness 
of God himself. 

Christ took on him man's nature, but did not take on 
him the nature of angels. Man is the child of God and 
brother of Christ, and a joint-heir with Christ to the 
vast possession of the Great Eternal I AM. Angels are 



lolla's laugh. 383 

God's servants and ministering spirits to man. Men 
and angels both fell. Man was redeemed at heavy cost, 
a great price; angels were not redeemed at all; and we 
are assured that our final exaltation, through Christ, is 
to that of kings and priests unto God and the Lamb 
forever and ever. Some who were once here on earth, 
weeping, helpless children in the arms of their parents, 
and who tasted of sorrow's cup, and encountered the 
rough storms of earth and the temptations of the evil 
one, are distinguished in heaven. Abraham's bosom 
and paradise are now convertible terms, while one of 
the songb which are sung in heaven is "the song of Mo- 
ses the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb; " and 
those w4io go from earth to heaven through Christ are 
ultimately to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
at God's right-hand. O that man would but claim 
through Christ his birthright and noble destiny! How 
transcendently glorious is our future position and in- 
heritance, if we but pursue in this life the course w^hich 
God approves! May all who shall look upon this en- 
graving and read this sketch feel that they have been 
made better by so doing. isos. 



Lolla's Laugh. 



I AM happy to say that, sin-cursed and bad as this 
world is, once in awhile we meet with scenes w^hich 
greatly relieve the dark picture, reminding us that this 
earth was once a paradise — the residence of one made 
in the image of God. 

Not long since I saw a countenance and heard a 
laugh which one might make a pilgrimage to enjoy; 
and since I have been blessed with the sight of that 



384 lolla's laugh. 

face and heard the music of that hiucjh I have soug-ht 
in vain among the recollections of the past for some- 
thing equally sweet and heavenly. 

I have lain down full-length at midnight in desert 
wilds, listened to the winds whispering through the 
pines, heard the low murmur of the waterfall, and the 
chant of the bird over his sleeping brood ; I have gazed 
upon the stars that had come out to watch in the silent 
sky, some hurrying along as bearers of dispatches 
which their neighbors did not understand, others tak- 
ing it more leisurely, while here and there were those 
who seemed cast off from the community of worlds — 
solitary, sweeping across the lofty dome, crowded to- 
gether in glittering ranks, as though they had assem- 
bled in obedience to an order for a grand review of 
worlds; and as I gazed, the meteor was shaken loose, 
set on fire, and went madly rushing through tlie heav- 
ens, leaving in its track a train of flame. 1 have stood 
upon the mountain peak, with the nations beneath me, 
and looked above the thoughts of mere men of the 
world, while wrecked and rainless clouds floated by, 
like drift-w^ood on the stream, and others sallied forth 
from their mountain harbors, like men-of-war menac- 
ing, while reenforcements hurried into rank from every 
direction, till at length the flash of arms and the sound 
of heavy ordnance — the roll of the "thunder-drum of 
heaven" — broke on eye and ear, and the unbridled 
winds kept uj) the martial music. I looked again, and 
all was calm; the clouds had drifted away, the sun was 
shining in his strength, and in the distant vale below 
the locomotive with its train dashed headlong through 
hill and dale, and overrunning streams; and I have 
followed them with my eye till in the distance they 
seemed as a chain of insects borne on by a ^ve-fiy. 



lolla's laugh. 385 

Far as the eye could reach there lay before me the va- 
ried scenes of mountains and valleys, streams, towns, 
villages, forms, and solitary habitations, like a map 
spread out at my feet — as though Nature had thrown 
back her veil that she might display at once all her 
beauty. Here I have lingered until the day grew old, 
and the burning sun that flamed along the sky grew 
weary, and sank to rest among the clouds that cano- 
pied the West; and still I gazed in rapture upon the 
varying glory of the setting sun, the shifting forms 
and fiintastic shapes of the evening clouds, all gor- 
geously painted by his lingering rays — at one moment 
it seemed a vast fleet, vessel after vessel in full sail ; at 
another a mighty giant with the club of Hercules in 
his hand; at one time I saw two children away in the 
distance, one leading the other b}' the hand, and nt 
once recognized them as the "babes in the wood;" tlw» 
next moment a ponderous elephant appeared with his 
unwieldy trunk, and an African chieftain, spear in 
hand, mounted on his back; then rose a mighty cit}^ 
with battlements and towers — part had fallen into ruin, 
the rest was all on fire; at length, far in the distance, 
which the straining eye could scarcely reach, was a 
frail aerial bark, w^ith an angel's hand upon the helm. 
Such scenes have held me spell-bound, until old Night, 
the emblem of death, threw her dark veil around me, 
and the winds among the rocky heights and ancient 
cliffs sang the mountain's lament for the loss of day. 
But in all this I saw not Lolla's eyes, I heard not Lol- 
la's laugh. 

An object often partakes of the circumstances by 

which it is surrounded; yet the surroundings of Lolla 

arc unpretentious. She is not an inhabitant of a proud 

city with pebbled streets and granite pavements; 

17 



386 lolla's laugh. 

neither is her dwelling a costly marble pile; she lives 
in a country village, not even within hearing of the 
roar of the rail-car or the shout of the steam-whistle; 
her home is a neat, retired cottage. The time and cir- 
cumstance in which she made her appearance were not 
such as you might suppose. It was not a May-day oc- 
casion, neither was she introduced as the queen of 
flowers. The time was a Sabbath afternoon, the place 
a sick-room. The afflicted one was a venerable man 
who had passed his threescore years, thirty of which 
he had spent in the village and neighborhood as a 
physician, and, being a man of sound head, pure heart, 
and large benevolence, had won the affections of the 
whole community; and now that he was passing away, 
all were vying with each other in kind attentions and 
tokens of regard. Such was Dr. Edwards. 

He occupied a room in the house of his son-in-law, 
the Eev. Mr. C, the honored father of Lolla. The 
writer, together Avith a number of the Doctor's old 
friends, had met there by his request, as he wished 
once more to partake of the broken body and shed 
blood of the blessed Saviour before he should go home. 
The Eev. Mr. Gr., a weeping prophet; Mr. M., his pas- 
tor; Mr. N., his class-leader; and Aunt Casy, the 
guardian-angel of the village, with several others, 
were present. The service was conducted according 
to the impressive form laid down in the '-Book of Dis- 
cipline; " an infant sister of Lolla was dedicated to God 
in holy baptism, and the Eev. Mr. G. offered up the 
closing j)rayer. The Doctor's wife, and their daugh- 
ter, Mrs. C, were invited to partake of the holy eu- 
charist with him. When the last prayer was closed, 
Mr. N., the class-leader, commenced singing the famil- 
iar hymn. 



lolla's laugh. 387 

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, 

with the chorus, 

Heaven, sv/eet heaven, home of the blest, 
How I long to be there, in its glories to share. 
And to lean on my Saviour's breast 1 

During the singing of this hymn those present, al- 
ready greatly excited, seemed to be almost overwhelmed 
with floods of glory. 

Here I introduce Lolla, a child of seven years, per- 
fect in form, exquisitely beautiful, with fair skin, blue 
eyes, light hair gently throAvn back, graceful in man- 
ner, and in ste-p almost as light and timid as a bird. 
She was neatly dressed and scrupulously clean. Her 
mind was naturally good, and well improved for one 
of her years. She had also enjoyed the advantages of 
Sunday-school instruction, and knew the ministers so 
well and loved them so much that she called each of 
them Uncle. 

While the hymn referred to w^as being sung, LoUa's 
mother threw herself upon the bosom of her father 
and talked of the meetinic of friends in heaven. Tears 
fell like rain from every eye, and several shouted for 
joy. This was the time when, and the place where, 
Lolla appeared. Shouting for joy, she had moved up 
to where I sat near her grandpa's bed, and, leaning 
against me, arrested my attention by gently shaking 
my elbow; and w^hen I looked around, there she stood, 
not trembling with fear, but perfectly self-possessed. 
She was weeping, yet not with feelings of mingled 
awe and dread, but as the angels do — if angels weep at 
all; and now, when an extraordinary burst of holy joy 
came up, she shook my arm again, and looking up into 
my face, herw^hole countenance beaming wnth delight, 
her eyes sparkling with supernatural joy, she laughed 



388 lolla's laugh. 

the most musical, heavenly laugh that ever fell upon 
my ear. It was perfectly electrical, and thrilled along 
my nerves as though by accident a hand had struck an 
angel's harp. She seemed anxious that my attention 
should be continually directed to where the greatest 
signs of joy were apparent; and every time I caught 
her eye she favored me with that transcendently glo- 
rious laugh. O had I then only been blessed with gifted 
sight, I should probably have seen her angel shower- 
ing light and kisses upon her cheek! 

The service closed, and the friends slowly retired. 
After all w^ere gone save the family, with little LoUa 
sitting on my knee, I asked her: 

"Lolla, how did you feel during the service awhile 
ago?" 

"Uncle," she answered, "I was very, very happy." 

"Were you ever happy in that way before, Lolla?" 

"O yes," she replied, "many a time." 

"How long," said I, "since you were first happy? and 
how did you happen to get so the first time?" 

"It was more than a year ago. 1 went with papa to 
class-meeting one day, and Uncle G. told them all how 
they might get happy. I thought I would try it, and 
did so, and got happy directly." 

"And what did Uncle G-. tell you to do?" said I. 

"lie told all who wanted to get happy just to go by 
themselves, and get on their knees, and pray to God to 
make them happy, and God would do it; and when I 
came home I just went b}^ myself and got on my 
knees and prayed to God to make me happy, and I 
got so happy directly that I hardly knew what to do; 
and I have prayed to God and got happy the same way 
a great many times since." 

I then asked her if she had been praying to God to 



lolla's laugh. 389 

make her happy that day. She said she prayed every 
day, but did not expect to get happy that day; that 
the Lord had made her so that time without her look- 
ing for it. 

A few moments before the close of this conversation 
her father came into the room, and, after Lolla had re- 
tired, gave me much the same account of her conver- 
sion, remarking that it was characterized by every 
sign of genuine regeneration, and that he had no 
doubt that she was truly pious; that she attended to 
all her Christian duties with great regularity and spirit. 

O that all parents would take the same care to im- 
press the minds of their children with heavenl}^ things! 
Then there would be more Lollas in the world. 

It was truly interesting to converse with this child. 
She regarded our blessed Saviour as the best friend of 
the family, and talked of going to heaven as the dear- 
est wish of her life. I think I never before saw so 
pure a human being as Lolla. The seeds of sin were 
never permitted to grow, but were crushed out by 
grace before they sprouted. At present she seems al- 
most unearthly; and I trust I shall never forget the 
countenance and laugh of Lolla. isco. 



NOTES OF TRAVEL. 



A Live Tennesseean Abroad. 

NOW for a trip. The weather is warm, times are 
dull; and we have just as good right to take a 
jaunt as anybody. Do like the Yankee: take your 
carpet-bag — something that you can carry yourself — 
and then wh^en the hackmen and porters are gathering 
around you, waving their whips, and shouting in your 
ears, like so many crazy persons, you can just lift your 
baggage and strike a bee-line for your hotel, and so get 
clear of these land-sharks. 

Just look! what large trunks people travel with 
these days! In nothing have times changed more 
these last fifty years than in the baggage of a traveler. 
The baggage-privilege of our fathers was a pair of 
saddle-bags; and there goes a trunk this moment that 
would hold fifty pairs — loaded, at that. 

Just take a look at your vender of books. He has 
not sold many to-day — his basket is yet full. Let us 
see what he has on hand: yellow-backs mostly; mere 
literary shavings, worse than nothing; there is one 
readable book — words that shook the world — a short ac- 
count of the Ecformation, or "Life of Martin Luther." 
How anxious he talks! he seems to recommend all the 
books in his basket with the same measured tone and 
manner. I suppose he has never read any of them. 
. (890) 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 391 

And here are the orange, apple, and candy dealers, 
consisting mainly of boys, who are the traveler's rats^ 
picking np all the loose dimes; for there are many 
men who will- purchase fruits, cakes, and candy when 
traveling who would never think of such a thing at 
liome. 

But where arc all the people going to? is the ques- 
tion. I suppose each individual has an object in view: 
one is going home, another leaving home; some are on 
business, others seeking pleasure. Here is one who is 
evidently alone; there sits a group of five or six who 
seem to have a common interest — out on a pleasure- 
trip; they must sit together, with the seats turned to 
suit. Bags, baskets, umbrellas, all find their way to 
the hooks or racks. Now they are seated, but not sat- 
isfied: the ladies must not be on the sunny side; now 
all are settled, and a pell-mell conflict of words ensues. 

"All aboard!" shouts the conductor. Do you not 
think that he takes great pleasure in being able to 
command a multitude in the way he does? He has no 
desire to leave any one; I would not charge him with 
such a thing; but I do think that he takes pleasure in 
seeing them almost left. 

The locomotive gave a deep moan, and then his 
heavy tread was felt upon the iron track, and we were 
off. Each one seems to turn, for a moment, to his own 
affairs. Let me see — have I got my checks all right? 
and have I not, in the bustle, lost my ticket? Here 
comes the conductor; what a dignified and business- 
looking man he is! "Show your tickets! " is the order; 
no if you please about it. I have mine, thank Provi- 
dence! but what's the matter there? That man has 
no thicket, and the conductor says he must pay more 
than those who have, and the man says it's all wrong; 



392 A LIVE TEXNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

that be had not time to get one; the ticket-agent did 
not come till about fifteen minutes before starting, and 
there was quite a crowd about the little window; that 
just at this time the baggage-man commenced check- 
ing, when he had to go to him, and as soon as his bag- 
gage was checked the conductor shouted "All aboard! " 
that he was willing to pay w^hat other passengers did, 
but no more. Up goes the conductor's hand for the 
bell-rope, to stop the cars and put him out, and out 
comes that extra twent^^-five cents. See how angry the 
fellow seems; but it is of no use to resist men in au- 
thority. 

Have you ever been impressed with the fact that 
when a railroad is made through a section of country 
where no such thing had ever been seen before, you 
will at once find men suited to all the different kinds 
of emj^loyment — president, agents, conductors, brake- 
men, baggage-masters, and all? and after a few weeks 
they appear to adapt themselves to their situations in 
such a manner that one would think none of them 
would be able to do any thing else if they were turned 
out of office. You can find men everywhere that will 
do for every thing. 

Lay aside that book! the car is no place to read in. 
I am half inclined to believe that the greater part of 
those who read so much in the cars do not read much 
anywhere else. I know it is not the case with you; 
but here are rocks and trees, hills and vales, and run- 
ning streams, which you never saw before, nor any 
like them; no two trees in the woods are alike. And 
then, here are a hundred new faces, and all these peo- 
ple have more or less brains, and some of them have 
thoughts which are their own. Open your eyes, un- 
stop your ears. A book is a mere copy, and sometimes 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 393 

a poor copy at that; but here is the original — read the 
first edition. 

After all, I am not sure but we are generally more 
pleased with the copy than with the original; a mere 
imitation is often preferred to the reality. Suppose, 
for instance, that a pig Avere to get fast in the fence 
and begin to squeal, would we not have it loosed at 
once, and stop the dreadful noise? And yet, if some 
vagabond were to come to town and stick up bills to 
the effect that he would squeal the next night at the 
hall so much like a pig that you could not tell the dif- 
ference, are there not many who would go and give 
their money to hear him, and consider it quite an en- 
tertainment? But you are getting a little sleepy. 
After you have taken a nap, we shall have something 
more to say. 

There are two or three things connected with the 
eating arrangements, that affect me uncomfortably 
while traveling on the cars. First, I cannot keep the 
fact out of my mind that I shall have to pay the man 
at the door fifty cents whether I eat much or little. 
The other is, that in spite of myself there is a feeling 
of haste, so that I eat too fast. Is it not too bad that 
all the lost time of the train has to be made up by 
shortening the time for eating? Do you really believe 
there is an understanding between conductors and eat- 
ing-house keepers? I do not charge them with such 
a thing, but will tell you what I saw to-day. Know- 
ing that we were ten minutes behind time, I was on 
the lookout, and it happened that the conductor sat di- 
rectly opposite to me at the table, and while I was try- 
ing to get some one to attend to me, I saw that he had 
already been waited on. He had bacon and beans, and 
soon after a slice of beef, next came a blackberry pie 
17* 



394 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

and a glass of milk, then a glass of water; so that ho 
did not lose one moment — did nothing but chew and 
swallow, and was soon done and gone; did not stop at 
the door to make any change; and in a few seconds 
more the old locomotive fetched such a scream that we 
all supposed it could not be held any longer. Here we 
all went as hard as we could tear, lest the whole busi- 
ness should cut out and leave us. Do you not think 
that there ought to be a law passed to the effect that 
all travelers on public conveyances should be allowed 
half an hour for each meal? The dinner was good 
enough, but we had not time to eat it. But was not 
that an awful breakfast we had this morning? After 
all, I am a little sorry that I said what I did to the 
landlord. If he had plucked up and quarreled with 
me all would have been right enough ; but when I told 
him that it was the meanest breakfast that I ever saw 
in a Christian country, he just looked distressed, and 
said he was sorry for it. I told him that we were all 
sorry, that it was a sorry business. I susj^ect that he 
was taken by surprise, that he did not look for so many 
passengers. If you noticed, on the first little tables 
we came to there was some show of eatables, and you 
did well to stop among those ladies; but uj) where I 
went it looked like starvation. I looked all around 
and saw nothing in reach but one solitary salt herring, 
and it lay off at a respectful distance from me on its 
side, ■with its back toward me. and looked so lonel}''- 
and defenseless that I could not find it in my heart 
to trouble it. I waited awhile with an air of gentle- 
manly dignity, but found that w^ould not do; I looked 
to the right and left — no person came to my relief; 
I struck the handle of my knife against the table, 
all to no avail; then rattled my cup in the saucer, but 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 395 

without success. About this time the large, red-faced 
man jou see yonder cried out, ''Is nobody going to 
bring us something to eat up this way?" I felt that I 
had the advantage of him, for I was still in a good 
humor, wdiile he, as the boys say, was ash3^ At length 
I saw a large, good-looking man with rather a benig- 
nant face, carrying coffee to one and another of the 
ladies, and took him to be the landlord, but thought it 
strange that such a clever-looking man should keej) so 
poor a house. I commenced winking and blinking, 
nodding and beckoning at him every chance I got. At 
length he concluded that he had better attend to me, 
so he brought me on a plate in one hand a little bit of 
the saltest ham I ever tasted, and a piece of bread ; and 
in the other hand a cup of coffee, and I went to work. 
A few moments after, I saw my friend that I took to be 
the landlord come to a vacant seat with a plate in one 
hand, a cup of coffee in the other; on his plate was a 
bit of chicken, a piece of bread, a little butter, and an 
egg. I began to look about for the eggs, but they 
never came in sight. He took his seat and began to 
eat, when I discovered that he was one of the passen- 
gers; seeing there was nothing to eat in reach of him. 
and not being able to get a servant to look up something 
for him, he went himself Yonder he sits now. The 
ham was so hard and salt I could do nothing with it; 
the bread had been sliced up until it had become so 
dry that the flies could not reach the moisture with 
their bills, for I saw several that looked very thirsty 
trying — they would stand up almost right on their 
heads, but it would not do. And the coffee had blue 
stripes in it! I can stand any other kind better than 
this. In general, by pouring off the top, and stopping 
a little before you get to the bottom, I would escape all 



396 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

the bad things, from the fact, as the old woman said 
about her bluing, it will either sink or swim; but these 
blue strij)es run all through in such a way that there is 
no getting around them. I would give the name of 
this hotel if I did not think that the landlord will do 
better next time. I have a thing or two to tell you, 
but here we are at B . 

We are under way once more, and the little troubles 
which one has to pass through ought to be borne with, 
though an honest man feels a little annoyed at being 
all the while treated as one who is under susjDicion. I 
had to show that baggage -master my tickets before he 
would check my baggage, lest I should smuggle a 
trunk into the cars without its corresponding traveler. 
Well, I think the women are up to them, for some of 
them have trunks as large as two good-sized trunks 
used to be; and I think it would be better if they al- 
lowed them two trunks each, if they would agree not 
to have such large ones. 

There is one thing which always strikes me on going 
into another car at these points of change, and that is, 
to find so many persons asleep. That is the time for 
all hands to be asleep. Just look around you at the 
number of sleeping subjects. They will all wake up 
just as soon as these new-comers all get seated. 
Wherever you find two in a seat you will find them 
wide awake; but those who have whole seats to them- 
selves are sui;e to be asleep. Look at that man over 
there — he is sound asleep, but too uncomfortable to hold 
out long; he will move now in two minutes, and that 
without waking — that is, without opening his eyes. 
There! I told you so! that fellow is wide awake, and 
has been all. the time. Well, I would not act the hyp- 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 397 

ocrite in that style to get a feather bed to lie on, tired 
as I am ! Do you not see how they are waking up al- 
ready, all over the car? How shamefully selfish we 
are! But these ladies take uj) a whole bench, and no 
mistake. You need not say to them, as the boy said to 
the hen he was trying to set, "Spread yourself!" for 
they are doing it in style. 

I wish I could see this country; but railway travel- 
ing is the poorest of all modes of travel, so far as seeing 
the country is concerned, l^early half our time we are 
the same as under the ground — at least, we cannot see 
out — and when that is not the case, if you look out you 
are liable to get a cinder in your eyes, which will put 
an end to your seeing altogether for awhile. I wish 
the water -screen ventilation were introduced every- 
where; but in that case you can only breathe with 
comfort w^ien in motion, so that there is a continual 
putting up and pulling down of windows; and, farther, 
I should like for some person to make a catch which all 
will approve. In almost every new car I get into there 
is some new fashion of fastening up and letting down 
the windows. 

You remember the trouble I had with that lady, 
awhile ago. 1 am glad that she is able to sleep, poor 
thing! You did not see the beginning of the matter. 
Well, it was just this way: I saw her try two or three 
times to let down her window; why she wanted it 
down I could not tell, unless it was because it was up. 
Did you ever see a lady who found a piece of furniture 
where she wanted it? A chair never stands in the 
right place. Bless them ! they are always " housekeep- 
ing," no matter where they are. The ladies of my 
party carried this matter so far the other night that 
they took one of the beds out of the room, so that they 



398 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

might set their trunks around the room to their notion. 
But I am off the subject. As I was saying, she tried 
and tried, two or three times, to get her sash down, but 
could not, and when, at each failure, she looked about 
to see if some one would not come to her relief, I at last 
became a little nervous, and determined to help her; 
and there is where I made a mistake. I did not know 
any more about putting down the window than she did. 
Now, let me give you a piece of advice: never attempt 
to aid a lady in doing any thing, unless you understand 
it; for there are two sins a woman never forgives, 
to wit, ignorance and a want of courage. My error 
was in trying to assist the lady without knowing how. 
We both got to work together at the old window. She 
was trying to pull up a blind that was below, and I was 
trying to let down the sash, and I tried every thing 
that appeared to hold it, till at last I touched some- 
thing, I am sure I do not know what, and the window 
fell as quick as lightning, and caught the lad3^'s finger 
under it; and she certainly would have fainted if there 
had been a good place to fall in. What to do with her 
bruised finger she did not seem to know. She would 
shake it with all her might, and then stick it into her 
mouth, and I all the while saying, "Are you much hurt, 
madam? are you hurt badly? I am sorry; I did not 
intend to do it." She turned her back upon me, and 
would not say one word; but I think she had some 
very rugged thoughts. I took a seat not far from her, 
and looked as much distressed as I could, waiting for 
her to pardon me. At length she became quiet, and I 
ventured to ask, "Does it give you much pain, madam?" 
Then she spoke for the first time, and said that it was 
very sore, but that when she got somewhere (I could 
not tell where), and got something (I could not hear 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 399 

what) to put on it, it would ease the pain. But I think 
it is easy now, from the way she sleeps; though I have 
no idea that she has forgiven me, or that she would on 
any account let me help her again. What a tale she 
will tell her husband about me! 

I have often thought that noisy children are great 
bores; but I tell you now, the best thing that you can 
take into a railroad-car, to keep the people off and se- 
cure plenty of room, is a cross, dirty child. That lad}- 
there, with her two children, has kept those two whole 
seats — room enough for four grown persons — for a hun- 
dred miles; and notwithstanding that several times in 
the last two hours we have been so crowded that per- 
sons have had to stand, yet I have not seen any one 
manifest the slightest disposition to take a seat with 
her. So cross children are good for something, after 
all. 

I have just had a long talk with that old gentleman 
yonder. He wanted to know my name, to begin with, 
and I told him; but I do not think I would have an- 
swered civilly all the questions he asked if he had been 
a young man. Old people will ask questions in that 
Avay. He did not know but he might know some of 
my kin, and thinks he does; says he knows a man of 
my name, and asked his old lady if she did not think I 
resembled him. He also wanted to know where I lived. 
I told him that, also; and after a little surprise that 
any one should wander off so fftr from home, he wished 
to know whether people in my parts sowed oats, and 
whether or not they had the rust, telling mc that they 
had rusted powerful had in his neighborhood, and that 
Mr. Clark, his nearest neighbor, had turned the stock 
on his. I asked what he thought was the cause of the 
rust. He said he reckoned the ground had just give 



400 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

out producing that kind of growth, and then wanted 
to know my opinion. I told him the w^eather was too 
wet at one time, and too hot and dry at another, and 
made the sap in the oat sour, and it swelled and burst, 
and bled to death. He said it mout he that, for all he 
knowed. 

Well, here is the city of E., and we shall have to run 
the gauntlet again with the hack-drivers and porters. 
I do wonder if there could not be some plan adopted to 
save a poor, tired traveler from such an ordeal. Kow, 
just think of it — two nights out; your eyes full of cin- 
ders; the sides of your head and elbows all bruised 
by the sharp corners of the cars. And that is not all; 
you have had no time to wash, shave, and change your 
linen ; and you feel as if you wanted nothing in the 
world so much as to be let alone, and for everybody to 
get out of your way and let you pass. But instead of 
that, before you can get off the car, they poke their 
whips in at the "windows, meet you at the platform, 
take hold of you as you go down the steps, come up 
before, behind, and on both sides, three deep, all halloo- 
ing at the top of their voices, "Want hack? want car- 
riage? Good carriage! good carriage! Take you to 
any place. Grot checks? give me 3^our checks; take, 
you cheap!" Then one w^ill say to another, "He's 
going with me." This is kept up, in spite of you, till 
you get quite away from the depot, no matter how 
often you say, "No, no; do n't want you; don't want 
any thing to do with you." If you are silent, they 
only think you are hard of hearing, and halloo still 
louder; so that all I can do is to endure, and wait for 
deliverance. A friend of mine tried the plan of utter 
silence; did not notice any who called to him, not so 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 401 

much as to turn his eyes toward them. One fellow, 
who was determined to get him into his hack, followed 
him closely, and shouted in his ear that he would take 
him to this, that, and the other hotel, or to the depot 
on the other side of the town, but could get no answer 
until at length, in despair, he said, "I will take you to 
the deaf-and-dumb asylum!" 

Those hackmen want nothing but money; they do 
not care where you are going, or what may become of 
you. While the greatest number of them were within 
hearing, I said, "You do not charge any thing for rid- 
ing, do you? If there is any thing to pay, I prefer to 
walk." In a moment their whips went down, like sol- 
diers trailing arms, and there was no more contention 
among them about who should have the pleasure of 
carrying the gentleman; and the whole pack that was 
dogging me turned to teasing somebody else, and I got 
clear. 

Did you notice that old gentleman who got into such 
a difficulty about his baggage? He has given up his 
checks, and does not know who has them; and his old 
lady is in a peck of trouble about it. He has forgotten 
the name of the hotel which he told the check-man he 
was going to. When old people travel by public con- 
veyance, the}' ought to have with them some young 
person, who could take care of the baggage and obtain 
seats. When that old gentleman left home, he thought 
that he would either be the only man on the cars or the 
principal one at any rate, and that everybody he should 
meet would be glad to see him, and anxious to know 
where he was going, and ready to render him aid and 
comfort. If he was in a buggy, with his trunk tied on 
behind with a plow-line, and old ISTell, or some other 
quiet beast, to draw him, and liis old lady by his side. 



402 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

he would know wliat he was doing; but these conduct- 
ors, checks, porters, hotel -drummers, and hackmen have 
so confused him that he does not know what he is doing. 
I thought, when he gave u]) his checks, that he did not 
know w^iat he was about. Not one among the hurry- 
ing crowd around him cares a copper for him, nor has 
any one time to make an effort to relieve him of his 
embarrassment. I do not believe that he intended to 
stop in this town at all; for I heard the old lady say, 
"Why can't we go on, just like the rest of the people?" 
while the old gentleman does not seem to know whether 
they are going on or not. Had I not been so hurried, 
I would have assisted him out of his difficulty. The 
last I saw of him he was trying to describe the man 
who had taken his checks, and turning round and 
round, looking after baggage that was fl^^'ing in every 
direction — some on express-w^agons, some on the tops 
of omnibuses, some attached to hacks, some on hand- 
barrows, some on the shoulders of negroes, and some 
in the hands of gentlemen. But little did the hack- 
driver care what sort of looking man he was who had 
taken the checks; all he wanted was for the old people 
to get into his hack, pay twenty-five cents each, and 
then get out again. And, to make the matter worse, 
the old lady was scolding at him for not having man- 
aged it better; but I cannot blame her, for her new 
maroon dress and finest cap are in that trunk, and just 
to think that she may never lay her eyes upon them 
again — it is too bad ! Bless the good old people ! I trust 
they will soon get aJl together again. 

AVe have now left the mountains behind us. "What a 
vast number of Southerners are hid away among these 
h'ills from the burning heat of summer! The mount- 
ains of Tennessee and Yircfinia are destined to be the 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 403 

summer home of the cotton, sugar, and rice planter. 
Montgomery" White Sulphur Springs, as the site is called, 
where we were yesterday, will at no distant day rival 
Saratoga. Its accessibility, its beauty of location, and 
variety of waters, must make it a place of great resort. 
At present it lacks shade; but its growing groves will 
soon supply that. I was much pleased with the char- 
acter of the visitors. Among the eight hundred or 
one thousand persons here, there was no gambling, and, 
I think, very little drinking. I did not hear an oath 
sworn, even by a servant; and I believe that out of the 
whole number of persons present they could not find 
eight who were willing to dance. They have more ra- 
tional amusements. 

But, to change the subject, I have one sad thing to 
tell you. You, too, are going to lose your name; from 
this time forward, during your tour through the East- 
ern cities, your name will be No. 26, or some other 
number. Travelers are known here only by numbers, 
checks, tickets, and coppers. No. 26 sits in a certain 
chair at the table ; No. 26 wants a hack ; w^hen j^our bell 
rings, the servant is sent to wait on 26; the merchants 
send your bundles to 26 ; and if you were to die. No. 26 
would be buried. Porters care nothing for the name 
you have had printed in large letters on both ends of 
your trunk, if you have one, so that people may know 
whose trunk it is; but with a piece of chalk they put 
upon it "26," in large figures. No. 26 at last pays his 
bill and goes away, and at the next hotel is given an- 
other number, and again has his name suppressed; but 
when you are traveling, who cares where you are from, 
or where you are going, or what your name is? Show 
your ticket — that 's the thing. So in the cars you are a 
ticket, in a hotel you are a number, in a hack you are 



404 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

twenty-five cents, and in an omnibus you are six cents. 
You are not to hear your name called again until you 
recross the mountains. 

"Well, here we are, in this city of the nation, and the 
day is before us. But you will no doubt divide your 
time between your book and the lions of the place, 
and be able to tell all about the improvements of the 
Capitol, the additional painting and sculpture, the 
Patent Office, the Smithsonian Institute, the Washing- 
ton and Jackson Monuments, and the departments of 
Government generally. The ground which you are go- 
ing to travel over has been so worn by others that I 
do not think I could make a track in that direction if 
I were to try. 

I am not a lion-hunter; the fixct is, lions are better 
understood at present than smaller game; and besides, 
it is rather dangerous sport. A young gentleman once 
said to an old African traveler, " Colonel, is it not mag- 
nificent sport to hunt lions?" "Yes," said the Colonel, 
"you would no doubt enjoy hunting lions very much, 
but it would be a very different thing if the lions 
were to take it into their heads to hunt you." So take 
care that you do not provoke the lions to hunt you. 
All the big men and great institutions of the nation 
have already sat for their likenesses; my place is 
among the masses, and my specimens from the rank 
and file; so that when I get a good likeness it is a 
type for the million. But our work of discovery will 
be greatly lessened by the fact that the Kev. E. Carr, 
of Tennessee, is in the city, and is putting things 
to rights. He has done up Petersburg and Richmond; 
has not been here long, but such is his industry that 
he will make a short job of this city. He has set 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 405 

Smitbson right with respect to his great General Con- 
ference picture; found one of the reverend doctors 
whose.v face had been overlooked; caused a prayer- 
meeting to be introduced into one of the principal ho- 
tels; visited the President — but unfortunately he was 
not at home, having gone to Bedford Springs, so he 
could not see him; but Brother Carr dropped him a 
note to the eifect that he (the President) should give 
his heart to God and pray for rain; and if the Presi- 
dent's heart is as far from God as the earth seems to 
be from rain, it was timely advice. !N"ow for a tramp. 

Well, here we are; another day spent, and night is 
upon us. It has been very hot. Do you not think if 
the sun were taken down that the Yankees would find 
out some plan to illuminate the world with gas and give 
us light enough without so much heat? For my part, 
I am glad the sun is out of reach, or the people up this 
way would be for tr^'ing it; for there is a general dis- 
satisfaction with the location of the hills, hollows, and 
streams, and as far as they are able, they are changing 
the wdiole of them. 

Some person has well said of this place that it is a 
city of magnificent distances; to take a hack I can see 
nothing, and to go on foot wears me out. 

I never go into a large city but the question natu- 
rally suggests itself to my mind, Where do all these 
people get a support? I suppose, however, that each 
and all of them could give an answer if called on to do 
so; at any rate, the inhabitants of this city have one 
comfort — the grounds around the Capitol, than which 
none more beautiful are to be found anywhere. The 
citizens, in self-defense during the dull season, have 
established a plan for recreation which I think is a 
good one. For a gentleman and lady to dress thorn- 



406 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

selves up and go out to look and be looked at, while all 
the rest of the inhabitants are either in their houses 
or else at work, is any thing but pleasant, and one soon 
feels like a loafer; but these people have reduced to a 
system this thing of going out to show themselves. 
On Saturday afternoon the city band repairs to the 
grounds of the Capitol to make music, and the people 
(all the people) dress themselves up in their best, 
go to these grounds, and pass the time in promenad- 
ing and listening to the music. And now, lest I forget 
it, let me say, I wonder that the thousands who visit 
here do not take items in the fitting up of grounds. 
Three things, and three only, are necessary for the 
purpose: trees, grass, and gravel. Bushes, vines, and 
shrubs, are beautiful things, but they belong together, 
and whenever the attempt is made to mix them up with 
forest trees and grass, the Avhole effect is lost — it is 
neither a flower-garden nor beautiful grounds. The 
offense given to the eye is not all that is objectionable: 
the shrubs obstruct the wind, and. as a matter of course, 
increase the heat, besides forming a protection for flies, 
and coverts for Avorms, bugs, insects, and weeds. I 
had rather go from such a place than to it; but give 
me smooth trees, green grass, and well-graveled walks, 
and nothing can come nearer to enchantment. Fount- 
ains soften and cool the air, and rustic seats are con- 
venient to visitors, but neither are essential to the 
construction of grounds. 

Well, as I was going to say, I made my way to these 
grounds, and walked around until, finding myself in 
pretty much the same company all the time, I took my 
stand by a tree, and watched the multitude as it passed. 
You cannot see any thing like it anywhere else that I 
know of —Broadway, New York, is not like it; there 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 407 

men prevail, and women arc generally young or mid- 
dle-aged, not man}^ children; but here there were old 
and young, men and women, servants and babies, all 
in their best outfit; some came by slowly and quietly, 
others seemed to be in a great hurry, some looking at 
others, some at themselves; some in groups, others 
aione; those so old and feeble they could scarcely walk, 
and these so light and puffed up that they could 
scarcely keep down to the ground. One man came by 
puffing and blowing — his dimensions w^ere immense, 
and reminded me of a retreating army, which always 
carries its baggage in front. He leaned back at such 
an angle — to balance, I suppose — that the lowest tip 
of his coat-tail was seen following on several feet be- 
hind him. The next person that arrested my atten- 
tion I think was from the hills of Vermont, and I am 
of the opinion that he is in some way interested in a 
patent churn; is about six feet four inches in height, 
and exceedingly lean ; with pantaloons braced up as 
high as his arms would permit, which made them too 
short at the bottom; his coat was blue, wntli metallic 
buttons, long in the waist, short in the breast, and its 
tail like that of a martin's; his vest was short and 
buttoned very tightly; around his neck was a w^hite 
handkerchief spotted with blue, tied remarkably tight; 
his hat was a real bell-crow^n, and being too large, was 
tied extra tight at the band, which gave the rim pecul- 
iar and unmanageable twists. His motion w^as ex- 
ceedingly elastic, and he moved about with a kind of 
convulsive start, but keeping constantly in motion, ex- 
cept when stopping to read the signs that were stuck 
up on the trees throughout the grounds warning per- 
sons to "keep off the grass." I never saw him pass 
one of these little boards without first stopping to read 



408 A LIVE TBNNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

it. But his main object, from first to last, seemed to be 
to keep ont of everybody's way, and at the same time 
to keep off the grass. Look at him when you might, 
he was dodging. I tried twice to overtake this live 
Yankee, and would gladl}^ have given a dollar to talk 
with him five minutes; but his habit of dodging pre- 
vailed, so that I could not get near him. In one in- 
sta-nce I saw him fairly routed. A gentleman, two 
large ladies, and a child, came meeting him, and com- 
pletely filled up the walk. He looked to the right and 
to the left, but they did not give wa}^, and "Keep oif 
the grass" was ringing in his ear':; so seeing no way 
around, over, or under, he suddenl}' whirled and took 
the back track, walking with great rapidity; and as 
that path led out one of the gates, the last I saw of 
him he was dodging the hacks and hackmen about the 
entrance, and is probably dodging somewhere at this 
moment. I will venture just here to assure his wife, 
children, and all concerned, that he will never be run 
over. You may tangle him up among horses, mules, 
ox-wagons, drays, stages, carts, omnibuses, carriages, 
and railroad-cars, but he will never be run over. I 
suspect that when he left home for the great Federal 
city, his friends warned him against this danger; but 
they may all feel perfectly easy on that subject. After 
all, it is a useful part of an education to learn to keep 
out of the way. Those who cross Broadway find use 
for it. I hope to overtake this dodger somewhere yet. 

These Falls have something real about them. No 
man ever came here and went awaj^ disappointed, say- 
ing they were all a humbug. Travelers in the New 
"World will come here, no matter where else they may 
wish to go. What changes have taken place since I 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 409 

was first on these banks! There was no town here 
then, nor was there a reguLar conveyance to the phice 
from any direction. A stage ran from Albany to Buf- 
falo, but it did not come hy the Falls; and as to rail- 
roads — there were none of them in the country at that 
time. I remember leaving the stage at Syracuse, be- 
ing told that it was the only place where I could pro- 
cure a i^rivate conveyance to the Falls; and all that I 
could find there was a little one-horse wagon, a seat 
across the center, with a buffalo-robe on it for a cush- 
ion. In this I made my way to the Falls through a 
very spai'sely-populated country; and when I told peo- 
ple on the route tliat my only object was to see the 
Falls, some of them looked at me in a manner which 
seemed to say, "Well, young man, if that 's all you are 
after, you are poorly employed." Some who lived 
within hearing of the roar of the waters had never 
been to look at them. About the only man I met with 
on the way who gave me any encouragement was an 
Indian preacher named Peter Jones, who told me I 
would be fully paid for my trouble. It was about the 
20th of June, and there was not a visitor fi'om the 
States, that I can remember. There Avere two English 
fiimilies there, and they pretty well filled up the only 
house of entertainment, which was rather a small es- 
tablishment. Eailroads, hotels, omnibuses, hacks, sus- 
pension bridges, and Maids of the Mist, had not been 
thought of in connection with this place. The way 
we reached Goat Island was by a narrow trestle-walk 
with a rail on one side, across the main branch of the 
American chute, and a very imperfect little bridge 
across the smaller chute; both intended for footmen 
only; horses and wheels had as yet never found their 
way to the island. I descended the bank somewhere 
IS 



410 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

on Goat Island by a ladder, and crossed over to the 
Canada shore in a canoe. 

I have been here often since, but think the Falls 
have never appeared so interesting to me as they did 
in their unadorned grandeur on my first visit; there 
was more of the terrible about them then; the bridges, 
roads, ferries, and tower, have a taming influence. 
How different the elements when bridled and held in 
subjection from what they are when they have great 
mass-meetings, and get up mobs, and run riot! How 
harmless that lucifer-match w^hen just ignited! it will 
not even fire your cigar; but see the burning mount- 
ain breathe sulphurous smoke and fiame, at one time 
darkening the heavens, and again, under the influence 
of a mighty throe, pouring out liquid fire, lis though 
Tophet itself had exploded, inundating town and coun- 
try. Or, look at the prairie on fire, burning with a 
madness which seems to be accumulative, and spread- 
ing with the haste of an evil spirit on an errand of 
vengeance. The wind — at one time so calm that it 
would not move the festoons of a spider's web, but 
when called out on parade or gotten into a rage, the 
mighty oak is taken up as a very little thing, and cities 
are scattered before it as a bundle of straws. See that 
little, gentle, softly -gliding brook, meandering slowly 
through field and grove; but now stand on this bridge 
and look at the water — every drop seems to be brim- 
ful of wrath; and, look any way you will, it appears 
to be hunting around, like some enraged monster, for 
something to destroy; the very rocks are torn to pieces, 
the earth seems trembling with fear; and the thought 
of my own fate, were I in its power, fills me with dread ; 
and when you follow the water to where it makes that 
dreadful plunge, and go below, eaqh troubled and angry 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 411 

drop seems to be looking around as though anxious to 
see what ruin it had wrought; so that in contemphiting 
this greatest of all natural curiosities, I experience a 
mino-led feelini>: of fear, awe, and delio;ht, and do not 
know which of these sensations predominates; I think, 
however, that the improvements around here have had 
the effect to somewhat dispel the first of them; still, 
it is a fearful place, and holds me awe-struck for the 
greater part of my time ; and fond as I am of a plunge- 
bath, I shall never get into these waters, unless it be 
by accident. 

Do you intend to see the man walk a rope across the 
river this evening? There is no use in asking that 
question, for I know you would sit here all day work- 
ing into a bit of table-rock with your pen-knife, just 
to see what it is made of, rather than go a mile to wit- 
ness one of the greatest feats ever performed. Yet. I 
think 1 could get you with me sight-seeing this time 
if it were not for the fact that you saw a man hanged 
when you were a boy, and afterward had so many bad 
dreams about it, you promised yourself never again 
to look upon any frightful scene. 

Well, my way of getting on with such a case is this: 
If the fellow falls, it will be his nerves that suffer, not 
mine. It is thought by many that the man who was 
to ride over on the back of this daring r©pe-walker is 
about to back out, and although that was to form a chief 
portion of the excitement of the day, yet I could not 
blame him if he did; I should prefer, in such a case — 
if it were not for the name of riding — to make the trip 
on foot. Well, work away among these strata of rocks, 
and on my return I will tell you all about what I saw, 
for you will want to know what happened, notwith- 
standing you won't go yourself. 



412 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

Back again! '^Well, did you see the man walk the 
rope?" "I did that!" "But did he carry the other 
man on his back?" "Yes, he carried the man on his 
back, and no mistake! When I went down there my 
first thought was to take a position on the bank two 
hundred yards above the rope, so as to be out of the 
crowd and run no risk of being pushed off the bluff: 
but I soon found that the crowd would extend for a 
quarter of a mile above and below where the rope was 
anchored; so concluded, if I had to be in a crowd, to 
get as close as possible, and went down toward the 
rope, but discovered that several acres there were in- 
closed by a high fence, inside of which one could only 
enter by paying twenty-five cents. I paid it, and was 
let in, but met with another difficulty: all along on 
the bluff above and below the rope and inside of the 
fence seats were erected in amphitheater form, and 
only those who occupied them could see any thing, as 
their height in the rear obstructed the view of all who 
■were standing on the ground behind, them. Here I 
was told that by paying another quarter I could secure 
a seat; I paid the money, and took one within twenty 
yards of the anchor on the American shore; so that 
the entire rope, man, and all, were in full view, and 
could not be obscured. My only fear was that the 
multitude behind us might press until seats and all 
would go over the bluff, which was about one hundred 
feet perpendicular; but I soon forgot the possibility 
of danger in that direction. The place where the rope 
was thrown across was about five hundred yards above 
the wire bridge. The length of the rope from anchor 
to anchor was eleven hundred and forty feet; it was 
about one inch and a quarter in diameter, and its low- 
est dip in the center about one hundred and fifty feet 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 413 

above the water; the slack, or swag, in the center was, 
from the best measurement I could make with my eye, 
about twenty-five or thirty feet below the level of the 
anchors. These depressions seemed to be mainly near 
each shore, so that I should judge that the descent on 
each side for fifty yards was at an angle of at least 
twenty degrees, which I supposed would be extremely 
difiicult for Monsieur Blondin to overcome with a man 
on his back. The guy-ropes were small — not more 
than half or three-quarter inch in diameter, and ex- 
tended about one-third the distance across from each 
shore, so as to leave about one hundred and thirty 
yards in the center without any side support — nothing 
but the single rope. Such is the construction of the 
web that this two-legged spider has sjDread across this 
fearful stream, this dreadful gulf 

"The crowd was immense — never did I see so many 
human beings together before; it was estimated at from 
thirty-five to forty thousand. At about four o'clock 
Elondin and some of his friends made their appear- 
ance at the end of the rope, near where I sat. Ten or 
fifteen minutes were spent in little j^reparations and 
conversation before Monsieur made his start, which 
gave me an opportunity of examining his person fully. 
He is apparentl}" twenty-eight or thirty years of nge, 
looks as though he Avould weigh one hundred and forty 
pounds, though I have been told he does not weigh over 
one hundred and thirty; his features are rather smooth 
and handsome, while his countenance is effeminate; 
light hair and blue eyes; his form and proportions 
were just and symmetrical, and, to judge from his ap- 
pearance, his habits must be perfectly temperate, 
while the whole expression of the man was gentle and 
amiable; there was no semblance of recklessness in 



414 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

him. His head was bare; his shirt and pantaloons, 
which seemed to constitute his wardrobe, except fancy- 
colored straps that passed over his shoulders, I took 
to be of thick; heavy, elastic silk goods. His feet were 
covered with close-fitting moccasins, made of heavy, 
dressed buckskin; his hands were bare, and seemed 
rather large for a man of his size. His balancing-rod, 
I think, was about fifteen feet long, one and a half inch 
in diameter in the center, tapering a little to the ends, 
and a gentleman near me said it weighed thirty-two 
pounds; if so, it must be made of very heavy timber. 
He is now hanging to his side a bundle of papers, and 
putting some strings into his pockets, for what pur- 
pose I know not. At this moment a brass band, which 
I had not noticed before, commenced performing a 
piece of music in quick time. Blondin's rod is in his 
hand, and, with a graceful bow to the multitude, he 
glides forth upon his pilgrimage on this almost invisi- 
ble thread across this boiling gulf. He set out in a 
fast trot, almost a run, which thrilled ten thousand 
nerves; now and then a short grunt could be heard in 
various parts of the crowd, as though some one was 
suddenly shocked with pain. But Blondin went for- 
ward, sometimes walking slowly and with caution, then 
suddenly turning his head down on the rope and his 
heels high in the air; first on one foot then on the 
other, performing all kinds of antics, till at length he 
passed over to where the guy -ropes extending from the 
Canada shore connected; here he stopped, took the 
strings from his pocket, tied his balancing-rod to the 
main rope and a guy, and came back over the main 
rope, sometimes walking on his feet, then on his hands, 
at times stopping to stand first on his feet, then on his 
head; now he is below the rope, traveling hand over 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 415 

hand, the next moment he is 'skinning the cat,' as 
the boys call it; now he has dropped below the rope 
and is hanging by one foot; now he is lying directly 
across the rope, and moving his arms and legs as if 
swimming; he is on his feet again, turned a somersault 
forward, then backward. 'Well, he will never fall 
after that,' said one. He now returned to his rod, 
untied it, and walked on, performing various feats, until 
he was received with wild acclamation by the host on 
the other shore and the music of the band — for there 
was a band on each side of the river. After a delay 
of twenty minutes the band on the farther shore began 
with a thundering chorus, and Blondin again appeared 
on the rope, with a man upon his back, whom he 
brought safely across to the American side in about 
twenty minutes; he walked slowly, though, and with 
great caution, and five times set the man down on the 
rope to rest, which consumed at each time a little more 
than a minute. In ascending the heavy grade of the 
rope on the American shore I thought he had about as 
much as he could do, and on reaching the land he 
looked flushed and exhausted, while the man he car- 
ried was rather pale — though he may look that way all 
the time. There was long and loud cheering, then the 
multitude dispersed, many no doubt greatly disap- 
pointed, for thousands came to see him kill himself; 
and as soon as it is undei*stood there is no danger, they 
will cease to come." 

I have often heard it said that it takes a great many 
different kinds of people to make a world ; and whether 
it is necessary to have so many kinds or not, there is 
quite a variety'- in human character. While we are told 
by St. Paul that of one blood God made all the nations 
that dwell upon the face of the earth, yet, from some 



41G A LIVE TEXXESSEEAN ABROAD. 

cause or other, unknown to us, there are a great many 
pliases and castes to be met with. After all, the char- 
acter of places differ about as much as the character of 
men. 

After you went to sleep last night, I was thinking 
about this place, and it is trul}^ remarkable. The whole 
city is sustained by travelers, or nearly so. There is a 
little show of machinery moved by the rapids; a few 
dozen Indians are employed on bead-work; and a few 
persons are engaged in making ornaments out of the 
spar taken from fragments of the Table Rock. The 
sales of bead-work and spar ornaments are almost ex- 
clusively to travelers; so that if the travel were cut off, 
this city would be dried up in short order. The various 
plans practiced to get money from visitors are really 
worth studying; let us look at them for a few minutes. 
Hotels are necessary, and here they are. The omnibus 
men must be provided for; so the trains stop at so 
great a distance from the hotels as to make w^alking 
almost impossible. The great number of persons in- 
terested in omnibuses thus find a support; for the depot 
might as well have been in the middle of the town as 
anywhere else. There was one mistake made in the 
location of the town — it is too near the Falls for the 
general interest of hackmen ; but it is curious to see 
how this difficulty has been overcome. If 3'ou stop on 
the American side, they will tell you that if j^ou wish 
to have a good view, you should go over to the Canada 
side; should j^ou stop on the Canada side, then Goat 
Island is the great place; so that a hack must be 
brought into service, and you must go down and cross 
on the great suspension bridge. That is not all. They 
will ask you if you are not going to see the Burning 
Spring, and Lundy's Lane, and the Whirlpool, and the 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 417 

Devil's Den, and Bloody Eun — " everybody goes to see 
these places." 

Well, now for a trade with a hackman, and there are 
probably five or six present, all interested in the same 
company; and if there is one of them who has his hack 
engaged, and cannot take you at any price, he will be 
the first to off'er his services. He asks a price that per- 
fectly astounds jow^ and Avhich he knows you will not 
give. You complain that his price is too high, upon 
which he turns away, with superb independence, and 
says that he will not take you for one cent less. At 
this moment up comes another, and speaks in a low 
tone, as though he were afraid the first would hear him, 
"I will take you for so much." But the first hears him, 
and pretends to become angry that this second man 
should work so cheap, and break down prices. JN'ow, 
you think, is your time to close in ; and you agree to go 
with the second; and, after all, you pay two or three 
prices. So if 3'ou go sight-seeing, you will pay five dol- 
lars for about two hours' service. When you get to the 
bridge, you must pay one dollar and fifty cents more to 
get your hack across. The man that drives is not the 
man Avith whom you made the contract; says he knows 
nothing about it; has no money; and the passengers 
always pay it. No use; you are in for it, and must pay 
it. One-half mile farther you come to a toll-gate; here 
you fuss and grumble, but you have to pay again. 
Next you are at the Burning Spring. "Will this spring 
burn. Mister?" asks one of your party. "Yes," says 
the man, "if you put fire to it." "Let us see it." 
"Just record your names yonder, and give me a quarter 
apiece, and I will." Well, you are at the Burning 
Spring, and not to see it burn would be too bad. You 
pay again. 
18^^ 



418 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

Next, Lundy's Lane. On reaching the phice you find 
a wooden structure, of! suspicious appearance in point 
of safety, some hundred feet high. "Do you want to 
go up?" inquires the keeper. "Just record your names, 
and pay twenty -five cents each." Down goes your 
money, and up you go, thinking, perhaps, that when 
you reach the top you will have nothing to do but to 
look. When you get there you see the country around ; 
but what of that? You do not know where the battle 
was fought, after all. You will find an old English- 
man on hand, who was in the battle, and if you will 
give him another quarter, he will tell you all about it. 
Out comes another quarter. 

The Devil's Hole is next to be visited. On the edge 
of the precipice, at the top of the stair-way leading 
downward, you come to a little shanty, and the keeper 
asks, "Wish to go down, gentlemen? wish to go down? 
Eecord your names. Twenty -five cents, gentlemen, 
twenty-five cents." You pay it, and down you go, for 
one hundred and fifty feet; and then you come up 
again, tired enough, and never say one word to any- 
body. 

Now, you wish to know what is to be seen at these 
places; you will have to go and see for yourself. 

It will not do to omit a visit to Goat Island. By 
this time your patience with hackmen and charges is 
exhausted, and you decide that you will walk. Before 
you get to the island a man at a little house between 
the two spans tells you that you must pay fifty cents, 
but that it is for the season. "For what season?" 
"For the whole season." You say, "I shall leave this 
evening, never to return." But you must buy a season 
ticket. Out comes your purse again. Another man 
came up to me, and asked me to give him money to 



A LIVE TENNESSEE AN ABROAD. 419 

show me the Falls. "Can I not see the Falls myself?" 
"0 yes; but I Avould i)oint out interesting points to 
you." Then j^ou go down the spiral stair-way; every- 
body goes down, and so must you. Down you go, and 
under the bluff you find a little shanty, clinging to the 
rocks like an eagle's nest. Out comes a very polite 
gentleman, and says, "Want to go through the Cave of 
the Winds? Put on this suit." Off go your clothes, 
and on goes the suit, and through the Cave of the 
Winds you go. Only fifty cents. If you wish to know 
what there is in that cave, go and see for yourself. 

But the great sight is yet to be seen ; we have to go 
under the sheet of water. Fifty cents, another suit of 
clothes, and a guide. Do you want to know if the 
sight is worth all this labor and cost? Go and see for 
yourself. 

Well, you would now suppose you had seen every 
thing about the Falls; not so. Do you not hear the 
Maid of the Mist blowing her whistle, and see people 
crowding on her deck, and putting on such funny suits 
of clothes? Here goes fifty cents more, and when you 
return a dime to the railroad to bring you up the bluff. 

But I will tell a little more about the hackraen. Not- 
withstanding that I paid twice the value of the service 
rendered, it was only half the sum the first man asked. 
As a class, they seem to be wholly destitute of principle. 

This Atlantic city is an interesting spot, on many 
accounts. You have not only the sea-breeze, but the 
sea itself, with all that can make the sea-shore attract- 
ive. A more lovely beach cannot be imagined than wo 
have here at low tide — smooth, and unobstructed for 
twelve miles by either stream or inlet; so that those 
who like a drive on the sca-shorc can be accommodated 



420 A' LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

here to their heart's content The vegetation near the 
sea has a singular appearance. The ocean wind trims 
the tops of the black -gums, maples, and hollies as com- 
pletely as any gardener trims the tops of his hedges 
with his shears. If you wish to know the height of 
the trees, you have only to find the elevation of the 
sand-bank along the shore; not one inch higher will 
the wind permit the trees to grow. The trees are high 
from the ground in proportion to the depression of the 
earth landward from the sand-bank. Thus they grow 
according to an agrarian plan; if one tree is larger 
than another, it makes all its gain at the bottom. To 
grow tall, they must commence in a low place. The 
increase in the size of a tree is generally in latitude, 
and not in altitude. This is probably the reason why 
the branches are thrown about in such wild confusion. 
I have just returned from seeing the twin-trees, as 
they are called. They are quite a curiosity. They 
stand about ten feet apart, correspond very well in size, 
and appear to be about thirty years old. Some twelve 
feet from the ground they are united by a limb about 
as large as your arm, and it is impossible to tell which 
of the two trees it originally belonged to. Its junc- 
tion with both trees is natural and perfect; it is nearly 
straight, with a slight upward flexure at the center. 

The surf-bathing, after all, is the greatest attraction 
here. But you will not go in; and I wish you would 
tell me whether it is the fear of sharks or dread of the 
water that keeps you out. If it is a fear of being 
drowned, you should do as my old New Hampshire 
friend did. I wish you would find out his name for 
me. I have tried every plan I can think of but to ask 
him, and that I can never do. He has discovered 
•mine by hearing you and the ladies call me; but none 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 421 

of tl\e people here know his name, or if they do, they 
have not mentioned it in my hearing. I looked into his 
hat, but found nothing there but one glove. I under- 
stand that he is employed in the boot and shoe-making 
business, and makes them altogether with pegs; he 
does nothing else; and you could not find out in one 
month how I came by this information. Well, as an 
Irishman would say, it was after this wise: On yester- 
day evening, as Col. S. and myself were laying our 
plans for a good ocean swim, instead of a bath, he was 
listening very attentively; and this morning, when the 
Colonel and I, with some young gentlemen of our party, 
set out for the sea-shore, all as free from worldly incum- 
brance as people ever are — having laid aside and left 
behind all but our dusters — and w^ere getting along as 
well as we could, bare-footed, there was old Mr. New 
Hampshire (I shall henceforth call him Mr. By Degrees) 
also making his way to the ocean waves. We were 
soon on the beach, and buffeting away with the most 
delightful surf I happened to look toward the shore, 
and saw mj^ old friend By Degrees in the briny deep, up 
to where the calves of his legs ought to have been, if 
they had not seemed to have been left off, for some 
reason or other. He was dipping up water with his 
hand, and wetting the top of his head. I asked him 
what he was doing that for. He said it was to keep 
the blood from rushing to the head, and went on to say 
that it Avas always better to wet the head first. I then 
asked him if he was afraid of apoplexy. He said he 
did not think there Avas much danger of that; but it 
might be that he would take something like congestion. 
From the top of his head to the ground he is, I think, 
about six feet long — that is, when he is straight. He 
appears to be al5out fifty-five years old, is nearly bald, 



422 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

and has a remarkably long face; his eyes are very near 
the top of his head, and the lower part of his face is so 
heavy that it seems to have drawn down the center 
until the inner corners of his eyes are much lower than 
the outer corners, causing his face to resemble that of an 
old sow at the time she is weaning her pigs. His shirt- 
collar is pointed, and extends up to his ears; in fact, 
his entire body seems to be suspended by the ears from 
the edges of his collar. From one point of view he has 
the appearance of a horse with a blind-bridle on. He 
w^ears a glossy black bombazine coat and pantaloons, 
without a vest, though he says he has one with him, 
and intends to wear it as soon as the weather is a little 
cooler. He says he is a man that always dresses ac- 
cording to the weather, neither smokes, drinks, nor 
chews tobacco, and is a Church-member — he did not say 
what Church. I do not remember whether he has any 
thins: round his neck or not. On his feet he wears a 
pair of very heavy shoes. He will not talk to you five 
minutes before he will tell you that his health has not 
been good for some time, and that he came here for the 
benefit of the bathing, and that if it will help him it is 
quite as cheap, or cheaper than to have staid at home 
and taken medicine from the doctors — though he is 
afraid the hotel-fare here will not be good for him; but 
he thinks they have what he needs, if he could get it. 
You need not be surprised if old Mr. By Degrees and 
myself should get up an anti-eating-by-the-bill-of-fare 
society ; for wc do not know the various dishes by their 
names, and are afraid to send for any thing except 
roast beef and Irish potatoes, lest we might not like it 
when it comes ; and as it is sometimes difficult to induce 
a servant to wait on you, we do not like to waste time 
in trying experiments. * 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 423 

But I have digressed fur away from the bathing. I 
told you that he had waded into the water until it 
reached to where the calves of his legs ought to have 
been, and was wetting the top of his head to prevent 
congestion. I urged him to come in deeper, but for 
awhile he would not — saying that he would take it by 
degrees; that his health had been bad, and he thought 
it dangerous to do any thing too suddenly; that he was 
a man who always took things by degrees. I asked 
him what kind of sickness he had. He replied that 
some of the doctors said it was his stomach, and others 
were sure it was his liver; but his opinion was that it 
was not much else than weakness ; that it came on him 
by degrees, and he expected that it would go off by de- 
grees. A young friend, Mr. A., became interested in 
his movements, and tried to induce him to venture into 
deeper water, and did succeed in getting him in to the 
depth of his knees; but when he saw the surf coming, 
he ran for the shore as briskly as a young colt. He told 
me a short while ago that Mr. A. encouraged him very 
much, and that he thinks he will go in deeper next 
time; that he has had ill health, and must take the 
water by degrees. He wished to know how much the 
barber charges for shaving, and if there was not dan- 
ger of catching the tetter-worm by shaving with the 
barber. 

But I have not told you how I found out that he was 
a shoe-maker, and made only pegged shoes. Well, I 
will come to it in a short while. Mr. By Degrees, when 
in his native buff, was the oddest-looking animal you 
ever saw. His skin was not a good fit for him, and his 
joints were the largest parts of him; the knee-joint, 
especially, was so very large in proportion to the re- 
mainder of the leg that 1 thought it was swollen, and 



424 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

that he had rheumatism; and I asked him what was 
the matter with his knees. He said, " Nothing, unless 
it is hammering on them so mueh, making boots and 
shoes." That was the way I discovered his trade. If 
you avoid alluding to his illness, he will talk inces- 
santly about his business; but if he can find a listener, 
he will talk on the subject of his maladies until the can- 
dles burn out, if it is night. He will give you a num- 
ber of instances in which he and his old lady differed 
in opinion; but, to his credit be it said, he generally 
admits that she was right. I take that to be a good 
sign. You will never fully understand him, however, 
until you get up before the ladies are awake, and go 
bathing with him, and see him dip up the water in his 
hand, and wet the top of his head, to prevent taking 
congestion. 

We have been out sailing! Col. S. labored energet- 
ically yesterday to organize the party. There were 
ten or twelve in the company — seven ladies, and five 
or six gentlemen. The Colonel and I wished to make 
the young ladies seasick, which we supposed would be 
an easy matter, as none except one of them had ever 
been out of sight of land. So, immediately after break- 
fast, we went by rail to the inlet, where we found a 
number of small boats, or yachts, kept for hire to pleas- 
ure-parties. One of them was considerably larger than 
the others; but in appearance it was as old as Xoah's 
Ark — the paint rubbed ofi" its sides, the rigging all 
patched, and tied up with strings, like an Indian's gun. 
Mr. F. (one of the party) was for taking the large one, 
fearing that the small ones were not sufficiently capa- 
cious; yet the smallest was, I should think, at least fif- 
teen tons burden. We selected a most beaiitiful little 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 425 

craft — new, fresh, and neat — which, with her clean 
deck, white paint, and swan-like canvas, looked like a 
bride, and seemed to be as innocent and docile as a 
Sunday-school scholar. We were soon on board; the 
anchor was weighed, the sails hoisted, and the vessel 
stood out before the wind, like an uncaged bird. The 
Colonel intimated to the master of the craft what was 
wanted — the roughest possible j^assage, consistent with 
safety. The day was as fine for the purpose as if it 
had been made to order — clear and balmy, with a stiff 
breeze and a pretty heavy sea. We glided down the 
inlet, and were soon fiiirly out at sea. The roughest 
water that could be found was on the inlet bar, and to- 
ward this the master bore down, and laid his vessel 
across the sea. The lamb -like thing plunged and 
bounded with might and main; and all the while we 
watched the effect upon the*ladies; but they were en- 
joj^ing it rapturously; they seemed to be wild with joy 
and merriment; nor was there any apparent sign of 
seasickness. It was evident that that motion had failed. 
We then laid her quarter to the sea, which gave her a 
kind of rolling, chopping motion; this was not very 
pleasant to any of us, as it interfered with our going 
about on deck. The effect of this motion was simply a 
slight reduction of the mirth. We thought for awhile 
that it promised more; but at length it'proved a failure. 
We then ran the yacht as much between the seas as it 
was safe to attempt, taking in nearly all the canvas, 
which caused her to roll with a heavy, sluggish motion, 
but to no avail. We then held a council of war, and 
the next expedient was tried. A rough piece of water 
was selected, and we came to anchor, depriving the 
yacht of her stiffness and steadiness by taking in all 
the sails. She now plunged forward and backward, 



426 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

and rolled from side to side most beautiftilly; and at 
last this motion was found to take effect, but, I am sorry 
to sa}^, in the wrong direction. A particular friend of 
the Colonel's, from "York State," as it is called here — 
a tall, genteel, delicate-looking gentleman, who had 
received a hint from the Colonel, and came on the ex- 
cursion mainly to have some sport at the expense of 
the seasick young ladies — became a victim to the mo- 
tion. I happened to be looking at him when he felt 
the first premonitory symptom. He stood j^erfectly 
still — that is, as still as the vessel's motion would allow; 
there was an anxious expression about his face, and he 
seemed to be looking back, like a horse when he feels 
the first grab of the bots, and appeared like a man list- 
ening intent]}^ for something. I was greatly in hope 
the young ladies would not observe him; but it was 
onl}' a few minutes before Lsaw one of them looking at 
him attentively for a moment or so; she then gave the 
young lady next to her the hint, and she, too, looked, 
and soon all were watching him. The young gentle- 
man, however, did not appear to realize the existence 
of outward things, till at last one of them sang out, 
"You're sick! you're sick!" And then followed that 
unkind, unaccountable laugh which well persons al- 
ways enjoy over those who are seasick. My York 
friend soon took a seat on a coil of rope that lay on the 
deck, and, leaning against the mast, gave unmistakable 
evidence of increased distress. He first leaned one 
way, then another, and at last stretched himself out 
at full length on the deck. He turned pale round 
the mouth, his eyes closed, and while thus conquered 
and prostrate, the cruel laugh was kept up. I am not 
sure that the Colonel himself did not now begin to 
feel a little unpleasant. The master of the craft said 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 427 

it was of no use — that we could not make the ladies 
sick. At length I said to one of them, just for spite, 
"You are getting sick!" at which she sprang up, and, 
bounding across the deck with a merry laugh, replied, 
"Not a bit of it! " So we weighed anchor and stood 
in for the shore. 

Did you ever study character at the dinner-table? 
There are a great variety of characters here in the din- 
ing-room at the dinner-hour. For instance, here comes 
an old gentleman and lady, dressed in good style, who 
take their seats as if they were used to it; the gentle- 
man takes the bill-of-fare, puts his gold-framed glasses 
to his eyes and looks wondrous wise, exchanges a word 
with his wife, and then says, "Mock -turtle." Next 
comes a young married couple, no doubt a little em- 
barrassed, but to prove to everybody that they are not, 
like a boy who whistles as he passes a grave-yard at 
night, they must converse all the way through the 
dining-room, and the young wife must laugh a little at 
what her husband is saying, as evidence that they are 
regardless of the presence of others. They consult 
the bill-of-fare together, and say something to the serv- 
ant, who starts off, goes a few steps, is called back, and 
another order is given; the gentleman then looks at 
his bride with a knowing glance, and she laughs. 
Yonder is quite a party. A parley is held with the 
principal steward, he runs ahead of them and turns 
down half a dozen chairs that had been propped 
against the table. A general conversation is set up 
among them, jokes are played off, unfinished confabs 
are introduced; but all the while tlie ladies of the 
party are looking in every direction to see who is here 
and who is there, while the young gentlemen seem to 
be perfectly satisfied with their company. Over there 



428 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

two gentlemen, who are talking together with seeming 
earnestness, do not seem to care much about the bill- 
of-fare. A card is sent off to the chief butler, and a 
bottle of w4ne, or something stronger, is now between 
them. Stocks, exchange, and commerce generally, are 
handled as small matters, while the quality of the con- 
tents of the bottle is discussed with a great show of 
familiarity with good liquors. Here comes a man 
alone, who walks straight to his seat, speaks to the 
servant as he sits down, goes to work in earnest, hur- 
ries through, and is soon away. A gentleman has 
just taken his seat over there w4io seems to know no 
one. He wears gold-framed spectacles, and sports a 
goatee, and a thin mustache which he is trying to 
tease into the shape of a ram's horn, while he occa- 
sionally pulls down his refractory goatee. He unfolds 
his napkin with great care, and adjusts himself to his 
work; he w^U be at the table when you leave, and long 
after, for he is going to eat "according to the book." 
He has got on now to the lobster, and is preparing to 
dress it himself, for which purpose an extra dish is 
brought; he intends to show everybody that he is not 
from the country, but the city, and a large city at that. 
He has taken the fleshj^ portion of the lobster from 
the shell, and is cutting it up as though he were going 
to make hash of it. Watch him! That is sweet-oil 
he is pouring on it, next he adds a little salt, now some 
vinegar, next different kinds of sauces, then comes the 
pepper, followed with the mustard, after which all is 
mixed and chopped together. Half a dozen times has 
the servant ran off to get some condiment for him, 
until he is surrounded by casters. Now he tastes it, 
holding it in his mouth with a knowing air, but sud- 
denly, and with great haste, adds a little more of two 



A LIVE TENNESSEE AN ABROAD. 429 

or three ingredients, and then tastes again. Now it 
will do! He calls a servant and sends his compliments 
to a lean, narrow-faced, sharp-nosed woman with curls 
straying all about her f\ice, to inquire if she will not 
have some lobster dressed after the style in which it is 
done in Paris or Boston, and she accepts. But look at 
that gentleman sitting alone. He is not engaged, as 
all the rest are, in eating. What is the matter? He 
is ashy-pale and red by turns; leans back in his chair, 
and tries to look dignified and composed. What a con- 
flict is going on between his wounded pride and his 
appetite! Let us analyze his thoughts: "Here am I, 
dressed in style, my hair dyed, my whiskers curled, 
a diamond ring on my finger and a diamond pin in my 
bosom, a man of some talent, to be neglected in this 
way! If they don't do better I w^ill leave this house! 
But never mind, they will come running directly." 
Poor fellow! his appetite will conquer yet. But here 
comes the big steward, with a larger apron tlian the 
waiters have, and w^earing a coat to distinguish him 
from the common herd of servants, who wear only 
jackets. Bowing politely, the steward says, '-Any 
thing wanting, sir? Ordered your dinner, sir?" "Yes, 
about one hour ago!" He is about to say" something 
more, but the steward is gone. He now fairly swells 
wnth rage; but it will not do to be noisy, because that 
would make public the fiict that he has been neglected. 
The servant who took his original order has been so 
much occupied in serving the party (who bribed him) 
that he has forgotten all about it, and has to go back 
and ask, " What will you have, sir?" But it is too late 
now to begin at the top of the bill; soup and fish 
depots arc past, and he is now at the beef and potato 
station. Now that he is eating, see how he has ui)- 



430 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

buckled the muscles of bis face; be begins to look ami- 
able, and is breathing deepl}^ and easily. What a won- 
derful effect that savory beef has had upon him ! Pity 
he had not imitated the man opposite, who is all the 
while knocking with the handle of his knife upon the 
table, or poking his fingers at the servants as they pass, 
like a man trying to see how high he can make a dog 
jump. He has opened a regular carrying-trade be- 
tween his appetite and the kitchen, and is taking on 
freight at such a rate that, were I an insurance officer, 
I should not like to take a risk upon his hull. 

I recollect a Frenchman who regularly hacked down^ 
and would not move one inch on the fish course. I 
suppose he was fond of this dish, and the servant had 
brought him some, but it was a small morsel, not more 
than a spoonful, and seemed to be beaten up almost 
into a batter, with the bones peering out all around it. 
The Frenchman adjusted his spectacles and looked at it 
for a moment, and then, with the most magnificent dis- 
gust, pushed it a few inches from him, set his chair 
back, and looked toward the ceiling. A moment later, 
and a servant asked, "What will you have, sir?" to 
which he replied, slowly and emphatically, "I — want — • 
some — fish!" The servant, glancing at the table, saw 
that he had fish before him, and left him. Quite a 
number of times other servants came to him and asked 
the same question, and received the same answer. This 
state of things continued until dinner was half over, 
by which period he had fallen behind the regular time, 
and was switched off. At length one of the proprie- 
tors of the house came to him and said, politely, 
"What's wanting, sir? what's wanting, sir? I say, 
what's wanting, sir?" The Frenchman replied, "I 
have told already what wanting, by Gar, eleven time; 



A LIVE TENXESSEEAN ABROAD. 431 

I now tell one time more : I — want — some — fish ! " The 
servants now began to gather around, a kind of coun- 
cil was held over the matter, arid I thought I heard 
one of them say that the fish was all gone. My own 
dinner was drawing to a close, and I do not know 
whether the Frenchman got any fish or not. 

The ladies have been in the briny deep at last, but 
not in very deep after all; and notwithstanding you 
would not take the bath yourself, you ought to have 
gone down and taken a look at us all when dressed for 
the occasion. Handy Andy's account of Squire Ea- 
gan's sheep, dressed up in old rags to ])rotect them 
from the winter's cold, after an unseasonable shearing, 
could not have presented a more ludicrous picture than 
-we did. 

The goods of which the bathing-suits are composed 
is a coarse, strong, woolen fabric, variously colored and 
striped, so as to accommodate the peculiar fancy of 
each individual; though my suit had been wet and 
dried so often that the colors had all run together, so 
that it was impossible to tell the original design. The 
wardrobe of the ladies was of the Bloomer style, with 
close-fitting basque body and high neck. They wear 
upon their heads straw hats with large rims, tied down 
under their chins; and they are bare-footed. The gen- 
tlemen wear pantaloons, with something like an oid- 
fiishioned bed-gown, buttoned up in front quite to the 
chin, or tied together with strings; feet and ankles 
bare; and hats similar to those worn by the ladies. 
From the row of little huts along the beach, which are 
appropriated as dressing-rooms, to the water's edge is 
about fifty yards. This open space has to be overcome, 
which is the great imaginary trouble of the ladies; for, 



432 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

where there are thousands of visitors, as there are here, 
you cannot escape observation. We had all put on our 
bathing-suits and met together near one of the shan- 
ties, some twenty I suppose, in all, to form a line of 
march for the water; and notwithstanding it was some- 
what difficult for us to recognize each other in our new 
clothes, yet it was discovered that one of the ladies 
was missing — Miss A. What had become of her no 
one could tell; the ladies said she had passed out from 
the dressing-saloon, and that was all they knew. Col. 
A. was dispatched in search of her, and she was found 
by discovering her feet. The door of the saloon opened 
on the outside; she said that when she got out she felt 
so funny that she could not stand it, so she pulled the 
door around and got behind it, and there she was, 
standing as still as death; but her feet were disclosed- 
below the shutter, and she was captured and brought 
out, and joined her party. Every thing ought to suit 
the purpose for wMiich it is intended, and nothing, it 
appears to me, could be devised more perfectly' adapted 
to the end than these bathing-suits, being every thing 
that could be asked for. Each lady now selects some 
gentleman who is to take care of her — a ftither, hus- 
band, brother, or some well-known and confiding friend, 
who is to see to it that the undertow, as it is called, 
shall not carry them bej^ond soundings, and to help 
them to ride the heavy waves. Now we are paired, 
and oif for the surf. It was amusing to observe how 
low the ladies tried to make themselves as they went 
limping along on the pebbles with their bare feet, tot- 
tering from side to side, like so many muscovy ducks 
on their way to the pond. We were soon launched, 
though, and riding the surf beautifully; but when I 
looked and saw how perfectly reckless of danger the 



A LIVE TENNE.-SEEAN ABROAD. 433 

ladies appeared, having fall confidence in their pro- 
tectors, and how industriously the gentlemen were 
employed in preventing any accident to their various 
charges, I could not but think of a negro meeting, 
where all the Tvomen get happy, and the men can get 
no good of the meeting in consequence of having to 
hold the women. 

I have noticed when out at sea that about every five 
minutes there comes along a swell that seems to be a 
master spirit, sometimes several feet higher than the 
others, as though the great heart of old ocean had 
made a violent throb, and greatly increased the circu- 
lation. That was particularly the case to-day: the surf 
was generally fine, but occasionally these alps of ocean 
would dawn upon us. But we had been going swim- 
mingly, till at length our paired -off arrangement was 
broken up, and the company formed what they called 
''dross circle," all taking hands like dancers in the 
Grecian chorus. I did not unite in this circle, but was 
riding the surf alone, having gone a little farther out 
than the rest of the party, when all at once here came 
one of these mountain swells. I mounted it, but saw that 
those in the circle had not observed it till it struck and 
carried them hither and yonder, their hold upon each 
other being broken by the force of the wave, and they 
were drifting around like so many gourds. I made to 
their relief, but soon the most of them recovered their 
footing ; though I saw one who seemed to be in trouble — 
Miss E., a tall and rather delicate lady; she was bob- 
bing up and down, with nothing but the back of her 
head peering out of the water; I soon reached her, 
and brought her to the top. She snorted like a baby- 
porpoise, swallowed a little salt water, spit the rest out, 
and just as soon as she could speak, said to me — and 
19 



434 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

no doubt meant all she said — "Well, I don't see any 
fun in this! Uncle Chip, don't let it do that again!" 
Yon may rest assured there was no want of looking 
out for the master swells after that. So far I had es- 
caped elegantly, and was just beginning to think that 
I should win the reputation of a good bather; but it 
always happens to me that just as I think I am about 
to finish up something smart, my hopes are struck 
down, and lam brought back to my proper level; and 
it is wonderful that I will do so, for I had faithful 
warning on the subject when quite a boy, which will 
never be forgotten: it was the day I put on the first 
pair of pantaloons with pockets in them that I ever 
had. I recollect it was in the spring of the year, and 
when I put on my new pantaloons, the old shoes which 
I had worn through the winter looked a little too rough, 
and I took them oif, and felt so light and supple that I 
told the other children I could fly, but they disputed 
it; so I mounted an old peach -scafi"old which was in 
the corner of the yard, in order to get a good start, 
but soon found myself flat on the ground, considerably 
bruised, so that I have never tried to fly since. But 
back to my difliculty: When I went to get a bathing- 
suit I could not find a hat large enough, being troubled 
with the big-head, and the sun was too powerful to 
think of going with my head uncovered; so I con- 
cluded that I would wear that nevv straAv hat of mine, 
with a determination not to let my head get wet; and 
to keep it from being blown ofl*, I brought down the 
ribbon and tied it fast in the button-hole of my bed- 
gown, and was getting on finely. But, as I was telling 
you, I must do something smart; so I went out farther 
than anybody else, in order to make character as a 
bather; and at this critical point in my desire for rep- 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 435 

utation, along came one of those tremendous swells, 
"when I happened to be attending to something land- 
ward, and, before I thought of it, buried me about three 
feet deep, took my new hat from me by violence — tore 
it off my head, broke the ribbon, and away it went. 
When I recovered myself and looked for my hat, don't 
you think, the ladies whom I had helped so much were 
laughing like to split their sides, and saying, "Yon- 
der goes your hat!" I overtook it at last, and put it 
out on the sand to dry; but it is so saturated with salt 
that I shall have to be careful to keep it out of the way 
of the cows. Soon after this I told the party that we 
had been in the water long enough. How much my 
ducking had to do in bringing me to this conclusion, 
I shall not say. 

This bathing is a great affair; and I am clearly of 
the opinion that persons affected with nervous derange- 
ment, or any general prostration of vital powers, will 
find sea-bathing of more service than other watering- 
places. The temperature of the sea at this point is 
about seventy degrees, and the slight shock that you feel 
when first going in soon passes away, and the bathing 
is really delightful; the beach, or bottom, is fine, firm 
sand, and is as pleasant to the feet as could be asked 
for; and there is not that danger which some persons 
suppose; if a man at a reasonable distance out should 
become perfectly helpless, I think the surf would 
wash him up high and dry on the beach. Ladies fre- 
quently go in alone. There was a great number of 
persons bathing when we were in, and among them I 
saw one lady who was alone, and was quite a bold 
bather. But the time came at last to go out, and out 
wo went. 

Here I am with another difiiculty: my suit of clothes 



436 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

was rather a close fit when dry, and when they got 
wet, the water acting as an astringent, they became an 
exceedingly neat fit; and but for the timely aid of Col. 
A., I should have had to wear them off with me, or 
come out of them locust-fashion. The only complaint 
now among the ladies is the condition of their hair, 
their heads having become perfectly saturated with 
the salt-w^ater. The next thing will be a heavy bill 
from the hair-dresser. 

There is not much interest taken in driving here. 
A great many people enjoy it; but they do not talk or 
brag about it. The reason of this is that it is cheap; 
you can ride in a car, omnibus, or hack at a low price, 
because the New Jersey people ride only in their Jer- 
sey-wagons. I like both the people and their wagons; 
tlie former are sensible, and the latter comfortable; but 
as the equipage costs no more than two hundred dol- 
lars, the elite are indifi^erent whether they ride in a car, 
omnibus, or wagon, as all are the same price. I cannot 
imagine what pride and fashion can do to abolish this 
democratic institution; something must certainly bo 
done, for all walk and ride in the same style, and there 
is no apparent distinction between the great and the 
little people. 

My old friend By Degrees has been out riding. He 
has visited the light-house, and says that he would like 
to go up to the lantern; but his health has been so bad, 
and he is so very weak, that he thinks he could not get 
up unless he were to take it by degrees. 

The angler, you must understand, is a very difi^erent 
character from the fisherman. I claim no particular 
fellowship for fishermen; with all their seineing, and 
netting, and trapping I have nothing to do. The 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABKOAD. 437 

inethod of fishing with hook and line practiced at this 
place was new to me, and it was with no little fear that 
I pitted myself against those Philadelphia and New 
Jersey gentlemen, who were at home in the art. 

Our party consisted of eight persons besides the 
boatmen. There was one of the gentlemen whom I 
considered more formidable than all the others — a Mr. 
J. I had often heard of him before I saw him; when- 
ever fishing w^'is the subject of conversation, some one 
w^as sure to say, "You ought to get Mr. J. to go with 
you; he is the greatest fisherman in these parts." Some 
time afterward I w^as introduced to him, and we were 
soon intimate friends; we flowed together like kindred 
spirits. He ^vas, I should judge, fully sixty years old, 
rather low in stature, a little inclined to corpulency, 
very intelligent and communicative, full of life and 
good feeling, and ready for the excursion. Every word 
of information that I was able to obtain from him has 
been treasured up; the kind of fish, the tackle, the bait, 
were all discussed, until I thought I should very soon 
be proficient enough to take at least one degree. 

The first thing to be done was to find a reliable man 
•who had a boat — there are tricks in all trades. There 
are a number of persons here who have fishing-boats, 
but who know nothing about fishing — people who come 
here merely for the bathing -season. If you should 
happen to have one of these as your boatman, probably 
you will not get even a nibble. They do not know 
where to take you, and if they did, they have a strong 
temptation not to go where you can catch fish, because 
you engaged to pay them a certain sum for the trip, 
and the sooner you lose patience and wish to return, 
the better it is for them. But Mr. J. knew the men and 
their tricks, and was therefore able to secure the scrv- 



438 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

ices of one upon whom he could rel}^ who himself had 
experience as a fisherman, and would take pleasure in 
promoting our success in every way. 

There are some facts with regard to the bait which 
you ought to know, if you should ever be tempted to 
try 3^our luck. There are three kinds of bait used here 
— soft crabs, hard crabs, and clams. If you bait with 
soft crabs, you will catch fish pretty fast; if with hard 
crabs, you may catch one occasionall}^; but if you put 
on clam-bait I will not promise that you will get even 
a good nibble. The best bait, like every thing else that 
is good, is not easily found; the second-rate article is a 
little more plentifal ; and the worst may be had in un- 
limited quantities. You may write it down in your 
book that the good things of this life are hard to get, 
whatever they may be, while the bad things come of 
themselves. 

Mr. J. having indoctrinated me into the secret con- 
cerning the bait, when we reached the inlet, and the 
owners of boats came around us for a job, one of them 
bringing with him a large soft crab, thinking that he 
would impress the party with a good opinion by his 
bait, I asked him what he would take for his crab (he 
had just said he could get plenty like it), and he said, 
"Half a dollar." "Here it is," said I, putting the 
money in his hand, and taking the crab. Mr. J. offered 
him half a dollar for another like it, but he had no 
more. Our boatman had sent his son to catch bait, and 
to meet us at a certain point on the way, though we 
had plenty of clams and a few hard crabs. We were 
soon on board a neat little fishing-smack, and standing 
out for the inlet. We began preparations by examin- 
ing the tackle. A number of lines were furnished us 
by the owner of the boat. These were made of cotton- 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 439 

twine, about forty feet long, with about four ounces of 
lead at the lower end, and with three hooks attached 
by trotters two feet long, made of smaller twine than 
that of the main line. The lowest hook was two feet 
from the lead, and the two others one and two feet 
above. The hooks were the old-fashioned twisted, flat- 
headed kirtd, and rather dull. I thought the whole ap- 
paratus was cumbrous and unangler-like. Fortunately 
I'or me, Mr. E,., of Philadelphia, who had been fishing 
here for some time, gave me his fish-basket when he 
left for home; he was a disciple of Izaak Walton, and 
had left in it all that was necessary for fly-fishing. So 
I rigged an establishment for myself, putting on the 
snood and Limerick hook, with a small sea-grass main 
line, and a lead just sufficient to sink it. 

The fishing-ground was reached at length, and every 
man was in as great a hurry to get his hook into the 
water as if he thought all the fish would leave for parts 
unknown unless he put his bait in their mouths in one 
minute. It was not long before we began to haul them 
up. But let me tell you that if you do not tie on your 
hat, you will lose it, as there is nearly ahvays a strong 
wind. You need not take an umbrella, for you cannot 
hold it and fish ; and however hot the sunshine maybe, 
you must endure it. The line is held in the hand, and 
the lead is dropped over the side till it touches the bot- 
tom; it is then raised a few inches, held very still, and 
you wait for a bite. The kind of fish taken were sea- 
bass, sea-trout, black-fish, weak-fish, and flounders — 
none weighing more than three pounds. I soon found 
my friend J. in trouble; he was catching nothing. I 
insisted on his trying my soft crab; but even then he 
could not induce the fish to bite. He first found fault 
with the place; but the rest of us were catching at such 



»*> 



440 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

ti rate that this excuse was not listened to. He then 
laid the blame on his hook; but when I modestl}^ told 
him that I did not think the inferiority of his hook 
prevented the fish from biting, he gave that up. He 
then thought ho was on the wrong side of the boat, 
and made a change; but still the fish would not bite. 
This Avas dreadful on Mr. J. ; for he was a master of the 
art, and to allow tyros to beat him was almost unen- 
durable. He complained of the size of his line. I said 
there might be something in that; but others were tak- 
ing fish with lines of the size. I knew, or thought I 
knew, why he had no success; but I would not have 
dared to tell him, even if I had been inclined to do so. 
He was not the man to receive instruction; it was his 
province to impart it to those who did not understand 
the art. But I was not then disposed to tell him so; 
for I was greatlj' elated at having succeeded while he 
failed. The cause of his failure was that there were 
great quantities of sea -weed on the surface of the 
water and on the bottom. Mr. J.'s lead was a heavy 
one, and his trotters were so long that all three of his 
hooks must have been on or near the bottom; and con- 
sequently his bait sank down among tlie moss, so that 
the fish could not find it. The breakfast that he had 
provided for the fish was all under cover-dishes. I was 
confirmed in this opinion by seeing that my lowest 
hook caught nothing, and that when he drew up his 
line his hooks were uniformly covered with moss; and 
I was astonished that he did not discover the cause of 
his want of success. He was lucky, however, in catch- 
ing sea-spiders. Did you ever see one? They are the 
most detestable creatures I have ever beheld. They 
are called spiders because of their resemblance to the 
common spider, and belong to a class of shell-fish — 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 441 

though I should think that all other shell-fish would 
be ashamed to claim kinship with them. They are 
about as large as a man's fist, and the body api)ears to 
be made of small fragments of rotten, shelly limestone, 
fastened together with coarse cement, and the joints 
left rough and unvarnished. They have been neither 
chiseled, plastered, nor polished, and remain in a rustic, 
unfinished condition. Their numerous legs are of un- 
equal lengths, some with and some without claws, half 
of them apparently broken off— lost in battle, I sup- 
l^ose — and resemble pieces of old, rusty, moldy sticks, 
attached to the body by the most awkward, bungling 
hinges imaginable. The boatman said they were 'tar- 
nally fighting. Earely did Mr. J. take up his hook with- 
out having some of these spiders hanging to it — often 
two or three at the same bait. They were so vora- 
cious that the change of element did not affect them 
sufficiently to make them drop off. There they re- 
mained, one on each side, with their rucccred leirs mixed 
up, staring into each other's faces, and both sucking at 
the bait with all their might, as though it were some 
dainty morsel which they had no hope of ever tasting 
again. I wish you could have seen with what vehement 
energy Mr. J. dispatched them. ]N'ot a word Avould he 
utter, but with a significant grunt, and a rapid swing 
of his line, would dash them against the side of the 
boat, scattering their fragmentary legs in every direc- 
tion ; and I observed that after one of them had lost 
three or four legs, he would seem suddenly to become 
aware of impending danger, and, as though he were in 
haste to return to his native element, relaxing his grip, 
would quickly disappear in the Avater. After a careful 
examination of these marine creatures, I must acknowl- 
edge that I could not admire them. 
19* 



442 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

During five hours' fishing we caught about seventy- 
one fish, and of these twenty-six were mine. For the 
benefit of the genuine angler, I will say that this kind 
of fishing cannot be compared with that which he may 
enjoy upon a Western stream, with a bamboo rod, a 
Hartford reel, a silk-plat line, a salmon snood, a Lim- 
erick hook, and where he can capture a ten-j)ound jack- 
fish. These sea-fish have no pluck; they do not pull 
vigorously, and the weight of the lead and depth of 
water are so great that yoa can hardly tell that you have 
a fish until it is almost out of the Avater. Then, you 
have neither clicking reel nor bending pole; in fact, 
the whole poetry of the art is lost. Give me a clean, 
shady bank, a running stream, and an elastic rod! 

What a beautiful day this has been, and how singu- 
larly I have spent it! The fatigue of fishing yesterday 
made me feel somewhat sore, and I had no inclination 
to either ride or walk; so I decided that I would join 
the Old Fogy Society on trial, if they would take me 
in. After breakfast I went out under the trees, and 
got into the crowd of long-jackets, spectacles, walk- 
ing-canes, and any number of newspapers. Being a 
good listener, I constituted an audience for more than 
a dozen of them. The greatest difficulty in sustaining 
conversation is not in inducing people to talk, but in 
prevailing upon them to listen. Did you ever observe 
what a propensity to talk old people have? If a man 
should live to be eighty years old, you may safely di- 
vide his life into sections in the following manner: 
Until he is twenty years old his time is spent mainly 
in feeling; he has some thoughts, but they are infre- 
quent and inconsequent. From twenty to forty he is 
an operative; he is at work, making money, character, 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 443 

or fame, or seekiog pleasure. From forty to sixty he 
devotes his energy to the erection of a monument; if 
he is a farmer or mechanic, he will build a house; if he 
is a professional man, he will write a book — he must 
do something to perpetuate his name after he is gone. 
After he passes sixty his sole occupation is talking; the 
garrulous old man, therefore, is passing through the 
final stage of his life. Being the youngest person in 
the crowd, I had to do a large share of listening, and 
to appear sufficiently grateful for the information that 
T was receiving, and at intervals to express my sur- 
prise at the great wisdom of the speaker or talker, by 
exclaiming, "Is it joossible?" "To be sure!" 

The subjects of conversation were various; and it is 
due to the old gentlemen that I should say that thej^ 
seem to have more than an ordinary share of intelli- 
gence. It is the general opinion among them that 
times are getting very much out of joint, and that there 
are serious evils ahead; that the tires on the wheels of 
time are getting loose, and that the world will break 
down before it goes much farther. The main difficulty 
is found in the manner in which the young folks are 
brought up — too high notions; too extravagant, alto- 
gether; cannot stand it! ]N'ow, let me say to you that 
while I believe many of the fears of these sage philos- 
ophers are, in ray opinion, groundless, there are some 
parts of the machinery of society realty out of gear. 
We can see the effect more clearly than we can under- 
stand the cause. 

The world is continually striving to achieve some- 
thing new. What a blessing it is, therefore, that old 
things can wear out, and give place to new ! For if the 
old could not pass away — and our desire for new ob- 



444 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ALROAD. 

jects must be gratified — the world would soon be too 
full of various things; and short-lived as are the things 
of this life, many of them last too long for us. I was 
forcibly reminded of this fact while walking through 
the streets of this great city; for New York is a great 
city for any country. In almost every direction they 
are pulling down the old houses and building new ones. 
It seems to me that it would be a good idea to get up a 
new-fashion-making establishment, and sell new fash- 
ions as cakes and other commodities are sold, and fur- 
nish models, from the largest ship-of-the-line down to 
the finest sewing-needle. Do you not think such an 
establishment would be profitable? Nature arranges 
this matter most admirably — the old crop dies before 
the new one springs up. Behold the grass, leaves, and 
flowers, how faithfully they obey this law! If those 
who are building could only see what is to become of 
the structures which they are rearing up, do you not 
think that the pleasure of building would be greatly 
curtailed? The builders of these old houses which are 
now disappearing intended them to stand forever; and 
the original owners fretted and fumed when any part 
of the material was thought to be defective. We drive 
nails, and clinch them, and say within ourselves, '' There 
you shall stay forever!" but the next generation will 
pull them out, if they must split the boards to do so. 

I have just been looking at the new styles. The 
merchants who have come from different parts of the 
country to buy goods are continually talking about the 
novelties. "Not so pretty," some say, "as those of last 
year; no matter, pretty or not pretty, the new style is 
the thing Avhich is wanted; it is useless to buy the old 
at any price." 

In architecture there are new inventions for lighting. 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 445 

warming, and ventilating. People will not live in the 
old-fashioned houses; they are astonished that they 
were brought up in the kind of houses inhabited by 
their fathers — full of deadly malaria, and no way to get 
rid of it. A new cabin for a boat or other vessel has 
been invented, which will insure the lives of the pas- 
sengers. The inventor is going to make the cabin a 
vessel of itself, so that when the ship gets into distress 
they will all get into this cabin, and as the vessel goes 
down they will unship from her, put the cabin's auger 
to work, and all will be safe. When I asked him what 
was to become of them if the cabin was to get into 
trouble before they made the land, he replied, "Ah! 
that is running difficulties through a second edition 
before getting through with the first." Another man 
had a new style of carriage, so arranged that if the 
horses were to run, the driver, by touching a spring, 
could turn them loose and let them go. "And what 
would become of the carriage," said I, " if it was turned 
loose on the side of a hill?" "I guess," said he, "that 
you would have to turn them loose on level ground." 

I really think that there is a fearful mixture in 
this city. Just reflect that within one hundred and 
fifty yards of this proud hotel, baptized by the name 
of a saint, you fall into the Five Points, and within 
three hundred feet in the opposite direction another 
most fearful sink of iniquity! so that the angels of 
God who hover around the virtuous and the good who 
stop at this magnificent establishment, and the fiends 
of darkness who keep vigil at these sinks of pollution, 
are nightly within sight of each other's camp-fires. 

I would advise those who wish to be impressed alone 
with the beauty, wealth, and grandeur of this city to 
confine their walks mainly to Broadway and the Ave- 



446 A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 

nues, for on these crooked, narrow streets there is 
little else to be met with in many portions but wretch- 
edness and misery. There are thousands here who are 
within a single step of utter destitution. You have no 
doubt noticed the great number of methods adopted 
to make a shilling — one has a little table with a dozen 
apples; another has a basket containing a few oranges, 
some with gubers — pea-nuts, as they call them; another 
2)opped corn; quite a number are vending newspapers, 
others with matches, and some with tooth-picks; and 
there goes an old woman with a little dirty sack and a 
stick: she is fishing up old rags and waste paper from 
the gutters, and I suppose a day of faithful labor does 
not result in five cents. So that the situation of one 
hundred thousand of the inhabitants of the city is 
such that one single week's sickness of the effective 
laborer of the family would bring the whole household 
upon the charitable institutions of the corporation. 
The city is too large — too many people; two hundred 
thousand of them ought to go to some new country 
and dig in the ground, and grow themselves something 
to eat. It would be infinitely better for them, and 
greatly to the advantage of those they would leave be- 
hind. There ought to be no want in a country like 
ours. Let New York be what it may in other respects, 
it can boast of two things: it has, I should judge, the 
finest street in the world. Broadway — every thing 
considered — has not its equal anywhere. In the next 
place, it is ahead of any place with which I am ac- 
quainted for omnibuses, though they do not crowd 
Broadway now as they used to do before horse-cars 
were instituted. 

Some years ago I had been spending some time at the 
Irving House, and the omnibuses were crowding the 



A LIVE TENNESSEEAN ABROAD. 447 

Streets from day to day, and from morning to night, 
till at length one evening, between sunset and dark, 
I concluded to get into one and see where it w^ould go 
to; so I stepped to the door, made a sign to the driver, 
and in I went. We struggled up Broadway to Canal 
street; there we turned toward the North Eiver until 
we came to Greenwich street, and then up that to — I 
know" not where. On and on we went; sometimes we 
were pretty well filled up, and again almost empty, 
till at last I was like the Dutchman's bear, "in a gage 
mit mineself" At length the lamp-posts gave out, 
and all was dark, and from the muddy condition of the 
streets I found that we were beyond all pavements. 
Finally, the seemingly tired concern came to a dead 
stand-still. I determined to wait and see what was go- 
ing to happen. At last the driver put liis mouth to the 
hole through which they receive fare, and asked, "Mis- 
ter, where do you wish to go?" "Now^here in particu- 
lar, only that I want to go wherever this omnibus goes; 
I wish to see one of these things to its hive; I wish to 
know where they live." "Well," said the driver, "I 
have got to my hive, for this is my stable." So I paid 
six cents, inquired when he would start back, and at 
about nine o'clock came again to my hotel, having 
traveled fourteen miles for twelve cents. 



LETTERS. 



Country-meeting Experiences. 

I DO not live precisely in town, but so close that I have 
learned a good many of the town -people's ways, 
and you know there is a great difference between town 
and country folks. Well, hearing of a meeting away 
out in the middle of the country, I thought I would go 
and see how they carried on; so I took my satchel — 
now, there is a great difference between a satchel and 
a pair of saddlebags: a satchel is made nearly square, 
out of leather, and some satchels have locks attached, 
and you can open and shut them like a muscle-shell. 
As I was going to start on the cars, and as saddlebags 
don't suit town-people who are going to take that kind 
of conveyance, I took my satchel, put all my things 
into it, and away I went. I did not know exactly 
where the meeting was going to be held, but had the 
name of the meeting-house, and thought I should find 
somebody on the way who could tell me all about it; 
so when the train started I looked through the car for 
some person that I knew, and saw a Mr. H. I inquired 
of him, but he had never heard of the place before. 
At length I asked the conductor if he knew where the 
meeting-house was; he said he did not know precisely 
where it was, but knew the neighborhood. Well, I 
thought, if I can get into the neighborhood, I shall find 
(448) 



COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 449 

some one who can inform me where it is; and so re- 
quested the conductor to put me off at the point near- 
est my place of destination. He said there was no 
station at the nearest point, but as it was me he would 
do so; and on we went, and went so fast, and had been 
going so long, that I began to think the conductor had 
forgotten all about it, and taken me past the place; but 
as I w^anted to appear deliberate and quiet, like a man 
who knows what he is about, I said nothing. At length 
the cars stopped, and the conductor, looking at me, said, 
"Here is your place. Mister." I took my satchel, stepped 
off the cars, and away they went. Now, the place 
Avhere I got off was no 2)lace in particular, and as I 
did not ask the conductor which side of the railroad the 
meeting-house was on, and as there w\as no road leading 
off from the point where he put me down, nor anybody 
about to direct me, I did not know which way to start; 
and as the sun was pretty low% and the weather toler- 
abl}" cold, I knew I ought to be going somewhere; so 
I looked all around, and at last saw a small house off 
some distance in an old field, and concluded I would 
go and see if I could find some person who would tell 
me where to go. When a townsman gets away off in 
the country, he hardly knows what to do; but I took 
up my satchel and started for the house. It was a very 
small one, but when I got there and hallooed, a large 
lady came to the door. I told her where I Avanted to 
go, and asked if she knew w^here the meeting-house 
was. She said she did; that she had been there once, 
but it was a good while ago; and looking closely at me, 
said, ''Ain't this Mr. So-and-so?" I told her it was. 
She replied, "I thought so; we heard that you were 
(;oming to the meeting." This pleased me very much. 
Now vou know fov a bodv to be heard of and talked 



450 COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 

about so far from home means something. I asked 
her how far it was to the meeting-place, and was told 
that it was a right smart distance, several miles, and a 
powerful bad road, and that I could not get there on 
foot before dark, and if night should overtake me it 
would be monstrous dark over in the hollers that way. 
I told her I must go somewhere, and asked her if there 
was any house on the road. She said there warn't. I 
inquired if there was any house near the meeting- 
house, and w^as told that the nearest house was a saw^- 
mill, which w^ould not be a fitti?i' place to stay; that 
there was another house not a great way off, but the 
7nan ivho lived there had moved away ; and the nearest 
place that I could stay at was Mr. II. 's, half a mile 
up the creek. I told her that there w\as no use in talk- 
ing, that I w^as bound to go somewhere, and had no 
time to lose. She told me if I had a mind to try it, 
just to take that road yonder, and she believed the 
plainest part of it would take me to the meeting-house. 
So off I started, but had not gone far before I saw a 
man coming on horseback, and concluded to wait and 
inquire of him. He came up at last, riding a small, 
narrow-looking horse, carrying a bundle. I asked him 
all about the matter, and learned that it was flirthcr 
than I thought, that I could not get there on foot that 
night — the road was bad and hard to find. On \\\j 
asking him what I should do, he pointed to a bluff on 
the opposite side of a creek that ran through the val- 
ley we were in, and told me of a man living up there 
with whom I could stay. But how could I get across 
that creek? He wanted to kno^v if I could not go over 
on the railroad bridge; and when I told him I should 
have to try it, he looked at me and my satchel, and, 
seeming to be rather troubled, at length said, "Well. 1 



COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 451 

will tell you what I'll do: I will set you across on my 
horse, right against the bluff; a horse cannot climb it, 
but I think you can." So saying, he dismounted and 
told me to get up and ride, and he would walk through 
a nigh way and meet me at the creek. I mounted at 
once, and, taking my overcoat, satchel, and all into the 
account, Avas nearly as large as the horse. "JS'ow," said 
he, "go along down by the railroad till you come to a 
road turning off to the left, around a fence, and just keep 
round the fence till you come to w^here I shall meet 
you." So on I went, and when I got around the fence 
to the creek, there was my friend, sitting on the ground 
waiting for me. "Is this the place where I have to 
cross?" I inquired. "Yes," said he. "But," said I, 
"there is no road nor ford here, that I can see." "No," 
said he, "but I have waded all through the creek here, 
and know all the deep places, and if you follow my di- 
rections there is no danger. You will have to go 
straight across until 3'ou get about half way, then turn 
right up and go till you get against that big rock yon- 
der that the water is running over, and then turn 
square off to the other bank, going within about six 
feet of that big rock." So I fixed myself up in the 
saddle the best I could, with my satchel on before me; 
the great trouble was to get my legs so disposed of as 
to keep them out of the water, which was pretty deep, 
and very swift; and as we moved along my little nar- 
row horse gave a kind of low, easy snort, as the cold 
w^ater came up around him. "You 've gone far enough," 
said my friend; "turn right up." So I turned right up 
against the stream, and the breast of my little spunk}' 
horse split the current like the bow of a steam-boat, 
and up wc went until my friend on the shore called 
out, "Now turn toward the btink." wlncli I did 



452 COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 

promptly. "You must mind," hesaid; "there are some 
jnighty big rocks over on that side;" and you maybe 
sure I was minding the best I could. At length he 
said, "You are going too near the big rock — turn up 
more;" and in trying to turn up, my little horse, as 
supple as a cat, climbed up on the top of a great rock 
in the water, which was concealed by the current. 
AVhen my horse got on the rock he made one big snort. 
"Now," said my friend, "you are in a fix; how are 
you going to get off that rock?" My little horse was 
trembling with cold or fright, and did not like to go 
into deep water any more, and I expected when he did 
we should both go under together, and the idea of 
all my things in the satchel getting wet was most dis- 
tressing. I wanted to hold by the mane, but the 
satchel had to sit right on the place I wished to take 
hold of. After some turning around, and a good deal 
of coaxing, my horse went off with a plunge and a 
grunt, but he did not fall or go under; I got my feet a 
little wet, however. Now, my advice to any one who 
wishes to buy a good little horse is, buy^that one. 
When once on land, I dismounted, and throwing the 
stirrups over the saddle and tying up the bridle, I drove 
the horse into the creek, that he might go back to his 
owner, which he did, after so long a time. "Now," 
said my friend, "climb right up the bluff, if you can, 
until you get into a little path, and then follow that up 
the creek until you can get out on tojD, when you can 
see Mr. C.'s house;" and he waited to see whether! 
could climb the bluff or not. He was really a clever 
man; there are not many town-men that would have 
done for me what he did, without pay; his only object 
was to help me out of a dif!icult3\ 

I found Mr. C. a very worth}^ gentleman; staid all 



COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 453 

night, and the next day he took me to the meeting; and 
as I was not accustomed to riding on horseback, ho 
carried my satchel for me. When we reached the 
meeting-house we found it nearly full of people. You 
know there is quite a difference between town-peopk' 
and country-folks about going to meeting — town -people 
don't like to go except on Sundays. Preacher G. 
preached; and I liked the way they sang — they took 
hold on the tune and the words with a strong grip, and 
slapped them together, and let them know tliat they 
w^ere made for each other, and went right aliead with 
them in a hurry, so that there was no fear tliat they 
would lose the tune, or let it all die on their hands; 
and they got under such headway that they never 
stopped until they sang the last half of the last verse 
over twice. I suppose they did that so as to taper off, 
and not stop too suddenly. And I noticed another 
thing: when the preacher became warmed up with his 
sermon, the old men sitting around would say, Amen! 
and the like, and it never seemed to disturb the meet- 
ing in theMeast; but you know the like of that would 
not begin to do in town. When preaching was over, 
as I was afoot — for my horse had to go back home — I 
went to the nearest place — Mrs. H.'s, about half a mile 
distant; preacher D. and a good many young people 
were with me. 

When night came on I concluded not to go to preach- 
ing, as it would be dark coming back ; and as I was 
chilled, thought that when all the rest went to the 
meeting I would make a good fire, keep the door shut, 
and get thoroughly warmed before they returned. 
Away out in the country they make a big fire, but 
they think it is unhealthy to close the door, so that I 
could not get both sides warmed up at the same time; 



454 COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 

for while I would be warming one side, the other wiis 
becoming cold, and that does not suit one who lives as 
near town as I do. I should like for you to form the 
acquaintance of preacher D.; he came eight miles on 
foot to the meeting; is very tall, but by no means fat. 
He had a strong argument on Scripture with preacher 
Gr. — they are both mighty deep men. D. said that the 
beasts were never made to be eaten ; that they had 
souls, and would live again hereafter. G. asserted that 
if Adam did not eat hogs he did not know what use 
he had for them; he could neither work, milk, nor shear 
them; and he — G-. — did not see what else Adam could 
jnit them at, unless it was to root up his garden, and so 
relieve him of the labor of plowing it. 

Preacher D. went to church with the others that 
night, and in going they had to cross a creek; and 
after they got there he began to think about the diffi- 
culty of going back in the dark, and somehow took it 
into his head that he had crossed the creek twice, when 
he need only to cross it but once. Now, people at 
meeting ought not to snifer their minds to be wander- 
ing in that way. But preacher D. thought that he 
could avoid one crossing of the creek by going part of 
the way through the field ; so when the meeting was 
over he left the crowd, took to the field, and got his 
fine new suit of jeans full of burs, but went on until 
he thought it was time for him to cross the fence and 
take the road. At this point the fence was built along 
the bank of the creek where there was a deep hole of 
water; and as the bank was so steep that nothing could 
climb it, the fence at this place was quite low; and here, 
preacher D. thought, was the best place for him to get 
over; and as the water looked rather white in the 
night, he took it to be the road; so he put one leg over 



COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 455 

the fence, then the other, and making a spring, jumped 
cachug into the middle of the deep hole; so that when 
he came to the house he was wet up to the waist and full 
of burs. I asked him if he had fallen in the water, 
seeing he was wet nearly all over. He said that he 
had not, that he caught on his feet. "Well," said I, 
" how did you manage to get wet so high up? " " Why," 
said he, "the water is just this deep," measuring away 
up to his waist. I told him there must be some mis- 
take about the matter — that I did not think he could 
find water one foot deep anywhere in that branch. 
His answer was, "I will show you to-morrow;" and 
so he did. There is one deep hole in the branch, and 
but one, and he had managed to jump precisely in the 
deepest i^art of it. 

The congregation next day, at eleven o'clock preach- 
ing, was large; not more than half the people could 
manage to find sitting or standing room in the house, 
but even those outside were quiet and attentive to the 
preaching; and when service was over, the preacher 
announced that there would be meeting again at night; 
that the jieople could come before dark, and have moon- 
light to go back by; but that was a mistake — the moon 
cannot be relied on, for she is continually changing 
the time of her rising. Preacher W. was there, and 
wished to come home with me, as we lived close to- 
gether, and I had determined to come before night to 
some place near the railroad; but W. had not yet had 
a chance to preach, and it is a mighty poor business 
for a preacher to go to meeting wnth a sermon already 
made, and not have a chance to preach it; so W. con- 
cluded that he would stay and preach at night, and 
after meeting come on to where I was going to stay. 
When service was over he had company for a mile or 



456 COUNTRY-MEETING EXPERIENCES. 

two, but one after another they turned to the right 
and the left for their homes, leaving him to make his 
way alone. 

The night was dark, for the sluggish old moon had 
not risen, notwithstanding the promise of the preacher, 
and W. was entirely unacquainted with the road; but 
he had special instruction to this eifect: that soon after 
passing through a certain muddy lane, he should take 
the left-hand end of a big road, which would lead him 
to Mr. B 's, where I had stopped for the night. The 
lane was passed at last, and W. took the left-hand end 
of a wood-road that passed around the field; this led 
him around b}" the fence, and up a dark hollow into 
the hills, and there it went to pieces and gave out, and 
he was lost. He saw a light at last, through the wood, 
and made for it. It was in a little hut occupied by an 
old darkey. W. called, but Cuffee would not answer — 
he thought it was an enemy. AV. told him that he was 
a lost preacher, and was trying to find his way to Mr. 
B.'s, and he must come out and direct him. The old 
negro armed himself with a long knife and ventured 
out, and gave W. the necessary information, but it 
brought him up on the wrong side of B.'s house, and 
he came precisely at the wrong time. H. wanted to 
lie down, and G. had just read a psalm and all had 
kneeled for prayer, when W. began to halloo back of 
the garden. B.'s dogs, great and small, went with 
fury to drive off the intruder, and were baying W. at 
a great rate. While he was shouting "Halloo! begone! 
get out!" and the dogs were keeping up their bow- 
wow-wow! Gr. stoj^ped praying, and said, "Let some 
one go out and relieve the man," and then resumed his 
praj^er. W. was rescued from the dogs, and the next 
morning we took the cars for home. And now let me 



A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 457 

say to you that the meeting was a good one, the 
weather fine, there was a good congregation, and I had 
a first-rate place at which to stay. igcg^ 



A Visit to Baltimore. 

I AVAIL myself of this the first moment's leisure to 
give you a brief account of my late visit to Baltimore, 
and of the transactions of the Board of Foreign Mis- 
sions. . 

We met on the evening of March 2, and continued to 
meet from day to day for eight days, Sunday excepted; 
and 1 think all the interests committed to our trust 
were cared for. We had a full meeting of the Board, 
and were favored with the presence, more or less, of 
three Bishops— viz.. Early, Wightman, and Doggett. 
Bishops Early and Doggett were almost constantly with 
us, and Bishop Wightman occasionally; but the busi- 
ness of the Conference required his attention mainly. 
We were also fiivored with the presence of Brother 
Cunnyngham, who had been acting as Corresponding 
Secretary during the year, and of the Eev. John Har- 
rcll. Superintendent of the Indian Mission Conference. 
Brother Cunnyngham had fully acquainted himself 
with the condition of the China Mission, and was able 
to furnish the Board with all the information necessary 
for a perfect understanding of the condition and pros- 
pects of that mission; and it is my opinion that more 
substantial good is now accomplished by our missiona- 
ries in China than at any former period, for the reason 
that, through the influence of schools and a religious 
newspaper, they are able to attract public attention, and 
thereby greatly widen the circle of religious influence; 
20 



458 A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 

SO that those who have entertained fears with regard 
to the success of this mission may now take courage. 

We were very fortunate in having the presence of 
Brother Harrell, who has been among the Indians for 
twenty -five years, and a hirge portion of that time 
superintendent of our missions. He is now little more 
than sixty years old, a man of fine health and great 
powers of endurance, with a clear, sound, well-balanced 
intellect and spotless Christian character, and is greatly 
devoted to his work. From him we obtained all the 
information that could have been desired; and his rep- 
resentations of the present condition of that mission 
were full, clear, satisfactory, and encouraging. The 
four tribes that were under our care — Cherokees, 
Creeks, Choctaws, and Chickasaws — were wasted and 
impoverished by the war, and our schools were broken 
up, and the regular work of the missionaries was al- 
most entirely suspended for awhile ; but it is wonderful 
to learn how the broken fragments have been reunited, 
and life and motion restored. The missionaries are 
doing a large business on a small capital ; great success 
attended their labors in that field last year. There is a 
demand for more laborers, and many preachers and 
teachers are greatly needed in that department. They 
are very destitute of houses of worship. At present 
the missionary preaches mainly in cabins and under 
the shade of trees. A few thousand dollars appropri- 
ated in aid of building houses of worship at a few cen- 
tral localities would be of incalculable advantage in the 
interest of that mission. In order to make the work 
permanent and accumulative, we must have houses. 

From the front ranks of Western emigration there is 
a call for missionaries. There is also an open field in 
South America, which the Methodist Episcopal Church, 



A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 459 

South, alone can fill. Since the close of the war not a 
few of our Southern j^eoplc have gone thither, with a 
class of feelings and views which would at once secure 
a welcome to a Southern preacher. The persons who 
have gone from the Southern States to Central and 
South America are superior in knowledge and general 
information to those among whom they have settled, 
and cannot fail to make an impression upon them ; and 
thus a door for usefulness is opened to our ministers, 
while it is closed against those from a Northern lati- 
tude; so that our way is now clear, and duty demands 
that we should occupy that country. A portion of the 
people already speak our language, so that a preacher 
could be felt at once in his true character. The de- 
mands upon us are great. We could find the laborers, 
but we have not the money to sustain them. 

Brother Smithson, our late Treasurer, did much dur- 
ing the year in promoting the interests of the missions, 
and by his twenty-five cents proposition obtained sev- 
eral thousand dollars, which was appropriated in aid of 
paying ofi" the old debt. He found it necessary to re- 
sign his ofiice as Treasurer, and Brother T. J. Magruder, 
a prominent layman of Trinity Charge, was elected to 
fill his place. 

It is due to Bishop Early that I should say in this 
connection that, notwithstanding his age and the ex- 
treme cold weather, he was constantly at his post, and 
fiiithfuUy served us as chairman of the Board; while 
Bishop Doggett contributed largely to the perfecting 
of our work, and interested us greatly with an account 
of his visit to the Indian Mission Conference. 

In closing my remarks with reference to the pro- 
ceedings of the Board, I will say that I think the pros- 
pects for our foreign missions are better than they have 



460 A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 

been sinoe the General Conference. A settlement has 
to be made with cUximants in the West before I can be 
able to give fiicts and figures with regard to the old 
debt, though the prospects are better than they were. 
I know you will expect me to say something about 
the Baltimore Conference, whicli was in session at the 
time of the meeting of the Board; and what shall I 
say? There w\as more of it than of any Annual Con- 
ference I have ever seen ; I suppose there were about 
three hundred preachers present, besides the laymen; 
visitors in great numbers — j^reachers from Virginia, 
Holston, Western Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, North 
Carolina, and Dr. Deems from New York. I cannot 
name them all, and therefore will not begin. Why it 
is that so many visitors go to the Baltimore Conference 
I cannot tell; nor am I prepared to say why it is that 
if a preacher goes there one year he has a strong de- 
sire to go again ; but such is the fact. The people of 
Baltimore and the preachers of the Conference under- 
stand and practice the art of making every person feel 
at home. I asked a number of persons, whom I knew, 
where they staid, who, after giving the name, invaria- 
bly added, "One of the best places in the city." All 
seemed to think they were at the best places. Now, if 
you should ever go to the Baltimore Conference, and 
wish to remain at a really hospitable home, be sure to 
go to Mr. S. G. Miles's. I observed another fact: if a 
preacher wished to preach, or to make a speech in Con- 
ference on some subject, opportunities were certain to 
be afforded him; if he w^ished to hear preaching, he 
could hear as much of it as he was inclined to listen to; 
if he was fond of singing, he could be accommodated 
at the church or Sunday-school; if he desired to give a 
little money to the institutions of the Church, he could 



A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 461 

be favored with that privilege; if he wished to write 
letters or read newspapers, he found ample facilities at 
the office of the Episcopal MetJwdist; if he wished to 
smoke, a pipe or cigar was at his service; if he wished 
to converse with a friend, he had only to go into the 
basement of the church, and there he would find well- 
warmed rooms and comfortable seats; and if he desired 
to look upon the faces of a niultitude of true Christian 
women, he had only to look beyond the bar of the 
house. 

They know how to get up an occasion in the Balti- 
more Conference. The Sunday-school gathering at 
Trinity Church was a wonderful affair. The large 
house was filled to its utmost capacity; even the aisles 
were crowded with persons standing. The Sunday- 
school scholars sang charmingly; but they did much 
more than that: each class furnished a portion of a 
miniature church-building, and with it a contribution 
to the missionary cause, and a motto taken from the 
word of God. This motto was handed to one of the 
preachers, who delivered a short sermon upon the text; 
so that there were thirty-two sermons preached, about 
twelve hundred dollars paid into the treasury of the 
Lord, and the front elevation of Trinity Church built in 
miniature — the exercises being interspersed with music, 
and all done in three hours. All this time there were, 
I should think, at least three or four hundred persons 
who could not obtain seats, but who stood as still as 
statues. That was a great success, and will appear still 
greater when it is known that on the night previous 
a collection for home missions was taken up, in the 
same church, at the close of Dr. Munsey's sermon, 
which amounted to- about twelve hundred dollars! 
Wiien the preachers began to make their returns, it 



462 A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 

was found that the Sunday-school Agent had not re- 
ceived his salary, and in one day an assemblage of 
Sunday-school schohirs gathered in Central Church, 
speakers were procured, and enough collected, I believe, 
to pay him in full. 

With regard to the regular business of the Confer- 
ence, it is not necessary that I should say any more 
than that it was done, and well done, notwithstanding 
there were but few speeches made, and the house was 
continually crowded with men and women who had no 
part in the business of the Conference; but the Bishop 
held to the question, and kept up the order of business; 
and such men as -Wilson, Regester, Roszell, Thomas, 
and many others that might be mentioned, knew what 
to say and when and how to act. The preacher and 
his aids acted well their part; no one was overlooked 
or left without a home. There was no death anion 2: 
the ministers this year; all had good health and great 
prosperity. Dr. Bond and Brother Poisal were in their 
places, meeting every demand and fulfilling all expec- 
tations; and many persons inquired after Dr. S., the 
editor. 

T went to see the new painting of Bun^-an's Pilgrim, 
or the "Journey of the Christian's Life." It is a won- 
derful triumph of art. I sat for two hours contem- 
plating it with intense interest. I am not able to say 
which of the great masters who were engaged in the 
painting deserves the highest praise. Only two faults 
were apparent to my mind, one of which was in the 
section embracing Yanity Fair: the temptations to Pil- 
grim as he passes through are top obvious; to the mind 
of a pure Christian they are no temptations at all, be- 
cause they can awake in the mind of a good man no 
feeling but that of contempt and disgust. The other 



A VISIT TO BALTIMORE. 463 

is in the representation of Pilgrim's entrance into the 
Celestial City; the amount of light thrown on the can- 
vas is so great that it approaches flame, and conveys 
the impression of great heat, which is ruinous to the 
effect. The section containing the view of Christian 
and his associates contemplating the Celestial City from 
the promontory, or point of rocks, across the vale of 
tears, which is the most lovely picture I have ever be- 
held, was not suffered to remain long enough in view. 
In exhibiting that picture there should be no haste. 
One fact impressed me while looking at these paintings : 
the world has carried sight-seeing in the direction of 
human corruption, and catered to the lowest passions of 
mankind, until society has become disgusted with and 
turned away from public exhibitions; but the frequent 
presentation of such pictures as this would doubtless 
have an opposite effect. The lecturer on the occasion 
talked of "shouting," "getting happy," "getting re- 
ligion," and now and then exhorted his audience to be- 
come religious. The words religion, happy, shouting, 
and heaven, fell as easily from his lips as if he had been 
preaching at a camp-meeting. 

On Thursday of the Conference — as the Board did 
not meet till night — at eight o'clock a.m., I threw myself 
into a car, and in two hours or less I was in Washington, 
standing on the Avenue, looking at the procession pass. 
I waited until I thought about one -half had gone by, 
and then made my way to the east side of the Capitol, 
and got a position from which I could see whatever of 
the inauguration that was to be seen. The multitudes 
present could only be counted by the acre; I suppose 
there were ten acres of people present — a description 
is out of the question. The people were swaying and 
driving to and fro like the waves of the sea; no one 



464 MU. DIXON. 

seemed to know where to go or what to do; some few 
stood still, others walked slowly, many walked fast, 
and some ran at full speed. Go which way you would, 
the crowd seemed to be going the contrary way; turn 
about, and you would think they were all coming back 
again. At one time a vast multitude had crowded up 
against a tall fence, north of the Capitol; those who 
were against the fence could get no farther; those be- 
hind thought something was going on in that direction, 
and continued to crowd on, till at length a portion of 
the fence, near the ground, was removed, making an 
opening three feet square, and through this opening 
they began to pass. If a person got to it without get- 
ting his head down, he had to go through feet foremost; 
but it was easy to get through in that way — when the 
feet were, once through the hole the pressure of the 
crowd soon forced the bod}^ after them. They were 
mainly negroes. I saw the President read his speech, 
but could not hear him distinctly. 

I returned at three o'clock p.m. The crowd on the 
car was vast, but silent; nobody talked; all looked 
tired; all had mudd}^ feet; all wanted to get away; and 
whether anybody saw what he went to see, I shall 
never be able to determine. isgo. 



Mr. Dixon. 



We are so dependent on each other in this life that 
not a day passes over our heads in which we do not 
incur an obligation to some person for favors or serv- 
ices of some kind. This is particularly the case with 
travekn'S who are passing through countries strange 
and new to them, and wish aid w^hich cannot be pur- 



MR. DIXON. 465 

chased with money; and more than once in my life, 
when in very peculiar circumstances, I have found a 
friend as perfectly suited to my necessities as if he had 
been made to order; and when I anticipated the greatest 
difficulty and trouble, I found the largest measure of 
comfort and enjoyment. 

A case of this kind occurred to me lately, so marked 
that I think it worth relating. I Avas on my way to 
Augusta, Arkansas, where the White River Conference 
was to hold its session, and as I expected to meet the 
Rev. W. C. Johnson at Memphis, who was well ac- 
quainted with the country through which I was about 
to travel, I did not take any especial pains to inform 
myself in regard to the best route. On leaving Mem- 
phis, I found that I was disappointed by not meeting 
Brother Johnson. I knew that Augusta was on the 
bank of White River, and that the train to Little Rock 
touched at Duvall's Bluff, on that river, and that I 
could there take a boat to Augusta; but on mentioning 
this fiict to a stranger with whom I was conversing, he 
told me that the water-courses were so low that I could 
not reach Augusta before Saturday or Sunday, and pos- 
sibly not so soon. This was on Tuesday, and the Con- 
ference was to begin the next morning. The gentle- 
man went on to tell me that there was a station on the 
way, called Brinkly, at which persons often stopped, and 
made their way, as best they could, through the coun- 
try, the distance being thirty-five or forty miles; but, 
on inquiry, I learned that there was no public convey- 
ance of any kind, and that if I went to Duvall's Bluff 
and could not get a boat, I should find it almost impos- 
sible to travel through the country. How this dead cen- 
ter between Brinkly and Augusta could be expeditiously 
passed was the difficulty to be overcome. Just at this 



466 MR. DIXON. 

moment I found on board the train the Rev. Dr. Collins, 
of Memphis, who was also on his way to the Conference, 
and who introduced me to his friend, Mr. Alexander 
Dixon. JSTow, 1 want the reader to become acquainted 
with Mr. Dixon. I should judge that he was twenty- 
five or thirty years old, would weigh about one hundred 
and thirty pounds, and, if he had not been too much 
exposed to the sun, would have been fair-skinned and 
handsome; he was well-proportioned, and had a very 
prepossessing countenance; he was dressed in the ordi- 
nary style of a business man, and had an ease of man- 
ner which is common to those who understand what 
they are doing. I soon told him that I wished to go to 
Augusta, but did not know how to get there, to which 
he replied, "Give yourself no trouble on that score; I 
will see to it that you shall get there in good time." 
He went on to say that he had a horse and buggy at 
Brinkly, and had already promised to take Dr. Collins 
to the Conference. But how he could accommodate the 
Doctor and myself, weighing about two hundred pounds 
each, with our satchels, shawls, and overcoats, and also 
ride himself, I did not fully comprehend. In due time 
we reached Brinkly, and in a few moments Mr. Dixon's 
horse and buggy were ready, and the baggage stowed 
away; then Dr. Collins and myself were requested to 
take our seats; and Mr. Dixon so doubled up his legs as 
seemingly to seat himself on his feet; and off we went. 
I was astonished to find that we were so comfortably 
fixed for our buggy ride. 

I soon found that Mr. Dixon was no common man. 
He seemed to be familiar with all the subjects of our 
conversation ; he was a merchant, and was at present 
traveling for a large cotton-house in Memphis; he had 
been a soldier, planter, hunter, angler, and was fa- 



MR. DIXON. 467 

miliar with the business and commerce of the country. 
He had very little to do with politics; but, as far as he 
expressed his opinions, I found him right — that is, ad- 
mitting that I was not wrong. He was a Christian, a 
member of the Methodist Church, sound in the faith, 
and pointed out to us the place where he joined the 
Church. I could not mention an Arkansas preacher, 
of whom he did not know something, and he was also 
familiar with the periodical literature of the Church. 
He was, so far as the country through which we were 
passing was concerned, better than any guide-book in 
the world; he knew all who lived on the road — their 
politics, their religion (if they had any), and their finan- 
cial condition; he knew all the bayous, la.kes, streams, 
and sloughs; he knew how to escape the deep holes and 
quicksands in crossing streams; he pointed out the best 
hunting-grounds and fishing-points along the way, and 
gave us some of his adventures with large game. He 
spoke clearly and distinctly, so that he was easily heard, 
and was so attentive to the conversation of others as 
never to require them to repeat what was said. He had 
no hobb}^, nor did he bore us with his own affairs. He 
saved us from feeling too keenly the obligation we were 
under to him, by saying how fortunate he was in fiilling 
in with such good company, and never once asked what 
we would have done if we had not met him; his whole 
object seemed to be to impress us with the idea that he 
was the benefited party. He was a good talker and an 
excellent listener. He knew all the good places at 
which to stop on the road; and as night came on we 
drew up at a very comfortable-looking farm-house, and 
he told us to alight, as we should stay all night at this 
place. In a few moments I found I was all right; Mr. 
Dixon and our host were old friends, and we were in- 



468 MR. DIXON. 

vited into the house. We could see at once the air of 
comfort that pervaded this home; every thing was in 
perfect order; a wood-fire threw its cheerful light and 
heat upon a clean -swept hearth; and the ease and 
grace with which the gentleman and his wife welcomed 
us seemed to say, "We are glad to have you stay with 
us." A more pleasant night could not have been de- 
sired. 

We were off in good time in the morning, and I was 
a little troubled because I could not recollect the name 
of the gentleman with whom we had staid, which was 
Lintegun. Mr. Dixon said at last, "I will tell you how 
you can recall the name at any time. First, think of 
Lin\ a tree; then, of tea., that you drink; and then of 
a gun;'' so that, with these aids to memory, I shall 
never forget the name. Finding that Mr. Dixon was a 
single man, and very popular with the ladies wherever 
we met them, I ventured to ask him why he did not 
marry. In reply he said that he had a widowed mother 
and two sisters, who held the first lien upon his affec- 
tions, service, and money; but the time might come 
when he should find it convenient to take a wife. The 
country through which we were traveling was beauti- 
ful. We crossed some flowing, limpid streams, and 
passed two or three lakes that lay sleeping in the for- 
est, which were all full of fish, and at intervals we saw 
wide fields of cotton and corn; our road was smooth, 
and our traveling almost noiseless. 

About the dinner-hour we drove up to the hotel in 
Augusta, having enjoyed one of the most pleasant 
rides I ever had, for which I returned to Mr. Dixon 
this acknowledgment, on parting with him at the hotel: 
"I am much indebted to you for this pleasant and 
successful trip;" to which he rei^lied, "Let me know 



HURRICANE SPRINGS, 469 

when you wish to return, and I will try to make your 
trip back more pleasant than the one we have had." I 
saw no more of him for several days, and began to be 
anxious about my return trip, but suddenly my friend 
D. presented himself and said, "When will you want 
to start back?" I told him that an appointment had 
been made for me at Cotton Plant for Sunday night. 
He said, "You will have to leave as early as one o'clock; 
it is twenty-five miles, and some of the road not very 
good." The hour was fixed, and at one o'clock he 
dashed up with a pair of fine horses and a neat two- 
seated express, saying, "Get aboard, let's be oif;" and 
we went that evening in good style, passing everything 
on the road. Cotton Plant was reached in good time, 
a large congregation was in waiting, and I trust the 
sermon was not unprofitable. ISText day we were again 
at Brinkly in good time, and there I took leave of our 
friend Dixon; and I am sure I speak the feelings of my 
traveling comjoanion. Dr. Collins, when I say that no 
travelers were ever better cared for than we were by 
our friend D. 1871. 



Hurricane Springs. 

I HAVE been spending a few days at Hurricane 
Springs, and as the world does not know a great deal 
about the place, have concluded to furnish you a few 
items. These Springs are located on the line between 
Franklin and Moore counties, the line running through 
the spring; and part of the buildings are in Franklin 
and part in Coffee counties; distant from Nashville 
about seventy -five miles, and six and a half miles south 
of Tullahoma. The elevation is about twelve hundred 
feet above the level of the sea, and about seven hun- 



470 HURRICANE SPRINGS. 

dred above the great limestone basin of Middle Ten- 
nessee. We are here on the first bench of the Cum- 
berland Mountains, which is about twenty-five miles 
in breadth, and something more than one hundred in 
length. The country on this bench is generally pretty 
level, while the principal dip is from the western bor- 
der toward the Cumberland Mountains, so that the 
highest point on the railroad between Nashville and 
Chattanooga — with the exception of the tunnel near 
Cowan — is TuUahoma; hence, the elevation at this 
point is nearly as great as that of Beersheba. The soil 
is generally thin, but very productive, and is easily 
made rich by fertilizers. The Springs are in a slight 
gorge, some fifty feet, I should think, below the aver- 
age elevation of this bench. The country immediately 
around the Springs is rather poor, the timber mainly 
oak and chestnut, and of recent growth. I should 
think that seventy-five years ago it was principally 
barren. The spring took its name from a creek which 
runs within about a mile of the place, and the creek 
was so named from a hurricane which passed over the 
country through which it flows, many years ago. 

The water in this section of the country is consid- 
ered the purest freestone, while the atmosphere is cool 
and bracing. There is not about this sulphur spring, 
as is frequently the case, a low, marshy deposit; but 
the healing waters flow from a stratum of slate, or 
shale, and seems to be the mere weeping of the rocks, 
and not very abundant, yet is unfailing, not being af- 
fected in the least by rainy or dry seasons; and, I 
should judge from the high temperature, flows from a 
great depth. The shale, or slate, from which it flows 
contains quite a number of mineral properties. Salt 
is not found in any great quantity in the water, but 



HURRICANE SPRINGS. 471 

during the night comes out from the crevices of the 
rock, and becomes crystallized during the day. The 
place was called the "Lick" in the early settlement of 
the country, from the fact that many kinds of game 
resorted to it for its saline properties. Hunters built 
their booths here and awaited the coming of the game. 
These rocks have been stained by the blood of many a 
noble buck. A snarly poplar was pointed out to me 
the other day which still shows the crooks and bends 
produced by a huntsman fifty years ago, who bent its 
trunk and twisted its branches together to make a 
blind, behind which he sat and watched for game. The 
poplar has grown to a respectable tree, and remains as 
a faithful sentinel. A few varieties of game still linger 
in the neighboring woods, but the huntsman has passed 
away, and men, women, and children now stroll and 
gambol over what was once the inheritance of wild 
beasts. 

It is now about fifty years since these waters were 
first resorted to as a restorer of health, and were used 
mainly for those diseases peculiar to females, and dis- 
eases of the skin, and were soon found to be valuable 
in diseases of stomach and bowels. But the true value 
of the water was never discovered until after the return 
of the army from the war in Mexico, when a young 
man in almost a dying condition from diseased bowels 
was brought here and soon relieved, which fact became 
generally known in a short time throughout this sec- 
tion of the country, and the result was that about fifty 
returned soldiers came to the Springs, and were healed. 

The water is found to contain a number of powerful 
remedial agents, among which are sulphate of soda, 
chloride of sodium, chloride of potash, carbonate of 
lime, carbonate of magnesia, oxide of iron, iodine, sul- 



472 HURRICANE SPRINGS. 

phureted hydrogen gas, carbonic acid gas, silicic acid, 
chlorine gas. The diseases for which the water is par- 
ticularly recommended are dyspepsia, liver complaint, 
cholera'morbus; and for those of the kidneys and skin, 
it is regarded a superior alterative. 

We have here at this time about one hundred visit- 
ors. I should think about eighty per cent, of them have 
come for health, and probably none for pleasure alone. 
Yet I do not see why pleasure-seekers might not find 
here, as well as elsewhere, that which they are in pur- 
suit of. The rooms are clean, airy, and comfortable, 
the bedding is all that could be desired — at least, 
^ine is — the food abundant, and well prepared. I 
think the Messrs. Miller have been very fortunate in 
the selection of their cooks. There is not much dis- 
play of round tables, empty dishes, and crimped towels, 
but you will sit down to a dinner very much like that 
you will meet with among the best livers in the coun- 
try, while the servants are honest and attentive. As 
to the morality of the place, I am happy to state that I 
never saw it excelled; have been here more than a 
week, and have neither heard an oath nor detected 
whisky or brandy on the breath of any one. The en- 
tire party seems to be as one genial, happy family. 
There are both hunting and fishing privileges here, but 
I have not availed myself of them. Croquet is the 
principal amusement, together with a little dancing 
among the children after the piano, for we have no 
band of music. The principal thing that I consider 
lacking here is this: there is no provision made for 
riding or driving — no public stable being kept here, 
which I think might be made profitable, and would add 
greatly to the pleasure of the guests. 

I do not know any watering-place where an invalid 



MEMPHIS CONFERENCE. 473 

would be more likely to find health and comfort than 
at Hurricane Springs. The proprietors have recently 
put up a new building, which greatly enlarges the ca- 
pacity of the establishment. I think I can say with 
safety that all the invalids but one are improving, and 
appear at the table. 

I wish 3'ou had a few weeks to spare, and would come 
and rest and heal your eyes. As to the price of living, 
I believe that many persons would find it cheaper to 
come here than to stay at home. There is one thing 
that is perfectly refreshing to me, and that is the anx- 
iety of the proprietors that every one should receive 
benefit and be happy. One thing which causes me to 
feel particular interest in the place is that I think I 
have been benefited myself. 1872. 



Memphis Conference. 

I REACHED Somerville on AYednesday evening, No- 
vember 21, and found the Bishop in position and the 
Conference under way. An Annual Conference is a 
oTcat affair — one of the most interestins; festivals of 
the Church. There, are no men of any craft or party 
who fraternize and sympathize with each other more 
than itinerant preachers; and after having been sepa- 
rated for a year, they come together to take each other 
by the hand, to talk over the trials, labors, and suc- 
cesses of the year. Each one has picked up something 
of interest during the year, which he is ready to relate, 
while others are prepared to hear; so that conversation 
flows like a stream; old friendships are renewed, and 
new acquaintances are made; distinguished visitors 
and strangers are every day introduced to the Confer- 



474 MEMPHIS CONFERENCE. 

cnce, while the preachers are frequently meeting old 
and true friends from among the laity — persons con- 
nected with charges served by them in other years; so 
that it is almost a constant stream of excitement. An- 
other feature of the festival is this: the families who 
entertain the preachers allow them to bring any friends 
they desire to dine or sup with them; while every 
preacher you meet with is under the impression that 
he has the best jDlace in the town; so that nothing can 
exceed an Annual Conference in a social point of view; 
and since lay representation has been introduced into 
our Annual Conferences we have a number of laymen 
mingling with the clergy, and in such close commun- 
ion with them that they seem to be a unit; and so 
many matters come up in the Conference-room that 
there is no flagging of interest there; while at each 
church preachers from different parts of the country 
appear in the pulpit and on the platform; and diff'er- 
ent boards and societies hold their anniversaries. Al- 
together there is nothing like a Methodist Annual 
Conference. 

In the examination of character the preachers were 
found innocent in life and conversation. Upon the 
present occasion there was an additional interest in the 
fact that the Bishop was a new man, never having met 
this Conference before, and it was really refreshing to 
see how he won his way and made favor among both 
preachers and people; and to hear the words of com- 
mendation that came from every one. 

Another feature of the Annual Conference is the 
deference paid to the aged ministers. They are fur- 
nished with front seats, and are listened to as oracles. 
In looking over this Conference I might say the cen- 
tral figure is G. W. D. Harris, who is considered as the 



MEMPHIS CONFERENCE. 475 

father of the Conference. He still sits in the midst of 
his brethren, seeing every thing and hearing but little, 
as he is partially deaf. The preachers generally call 
him "Uncle George." His long life of labor and use- 
fulness sits upon him as a crown of honor and glory; 
a large number of the members of the Conference 
were brought into the Church and licensed to preach 
by him, and he looks upon them as his children, and 
you will not unfrequently hear the preachers say, "I 
wish he was young again." It was delightful to see 
how both preachers and people hung upon his lips 
Avhile he preached the sermon before the ordination of 
ciders. I was surj^rised to find his mind so well pre- 
served, while his body is sinking under the pressure 
of age and disease. He has been a power in his day. 
Close by him sits Thomas Joyner, whose physical 
strength has been better preserved, and who is still 
able to take work. His face is a true index to a kind 
and generous heart, while his mellow voice in song still 
melts and warms the hearts of his brethren. Close to 
him is Brother Davidson, whose beard is as white as 
wool, but his countenance bright and balmy; and he is 
still able to go in and out among his brethren. These 
brethren have been in the harvest-field of this world's 
ruin, sickle in hand, for nearly half a century, gather- 
ing sheaves for the heavenly garner, with sandals worn, 
and the dust of long travel and labor on their gar- 
ments; the sickles begin to swag in their hands, and 
soon they will reach them forth for the last sheaf, and 
when the Master of the vinej^ard shall call his laborers 
to their eternal reward, these faithful men will go up 
liigher. 

The business of the Conference Avas finished up in 
good style, and, as far as I was able to judge, general 



476 MExMPHIS CONFERENCE. 

satisfaction was the result. The Central University 
scheme met with unusual fiivor, passed the Conference 
without one dissenting voice, and Brother Patterson 
was appointed agent — a better could not have been se- 
lected ; so that the prospects of this institution brighten 
every day. There were several visiting brethren pres- 
ent, among whom were Dr. Wiley, of Emory and Henry 
College, and Brother Comer, of the Tennessee Confer- 
ence. The Conference contributed, in cash and sub- 
scriptions, something more than eleven hundred dollars 
for the refitting of the Publishing House, and I hope 
the Conferences yet to be held will do likewise. The 
Missionary Anniversary was not satisfactory. I do not 
know why it is that we can raise money for almost any 
purpose with more ease than for the cause of Missions. 
This ought not so to be. The indebtedness to the Pub- 
lishing House was generally paid off, and if I had time, 
I think I could induce almost every one here to take 
the Advocate. Somerville, the seat of the Conference, 
is an old town of some two or three thousand inhab- 
itants. The Conference was accommodated in good 
style. Thirty-five years ago I Avas at a Conference in 
this town, and was entertained by Dr. Hickerson and 
his young and lovely wife, and, when reaching the 
place assigned me this time, was agreeably surprised 
to find myself in the same house ; but changes had taken 
place: the Doctor had passed away, but Mrs. Hickerson 
and four children remain, and Mr. Spain, who has 
married her youngest daughter, lives with the mother. 
In this truly worthy and hospitable family I have 
found a pleasant home. The citizens and preachers 
are mutual in their expressions of pleasure and grati- 
fication. 

The next session of the Conference is to be held in 



HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 477 

Memphis. I sliall leave this evening for Corinth, the 
seat of the JSTorth Mississippi Conference, after which 
you may hear from me again. is72. 



Hot Springs, Arkansas. 

When parting with you I promised a letter, and 
would have redeemed my pledge before now, were it 
not that I knew that between the reports from Com- 
mencement-exercises, the proceedings of District Con- 
ferences, and the general news of the Church, you must 
be greatly crowded, and we do not like to be crowded 
this hot weather; so I decided to w^ait a little; and it 
may be that I am now too soon for your comfort. The 
fine rain of yesterday has cooled the air a little, which 
had its influence on me; but it is still too hot for per- 
fect comfort. 

The Hot Springs of Arkansas, where I am now so- 
journing, is a place of great interest in many respects, 
and will be more so as the world grows older. It is 
situated sixty miles a little south of west from Little 
Rock, among the outcroppings of the Ozark Mountains, 
south of the main range, in latitude 34° 40', witli an 
elevation of seventeen hundred feet above the level of 
the sea. The Hot Springs Yalley extends from north 
to south for a considerable distance. The western 
mountain, or ridge, is about eight hundred feet high, 
with a very abrupt descent, while the ridge east of the 
valley is not so high by two hundred feet, and has 
rather a gentle slope. This is the ridge from which the 
Hot Springs gush forth. The surrounding country is 
generally poor, but is well supplied with timber, chiefly 
pine and oak. The surface-soil consists of about equal 



478. HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 



portions of earth and gravel; the rocks are generally 
freestone, and give evidence of a great upheaval, as 
they are in perpendicular strata, with a slight inclina- 
tion to the north-west, in the direction of the main 
range of the Ozark Mountains. Within a few miles of 
where I am now writing is the great Arkansas whet- 
stone quarry, containing sufficient material to supply 
the world with hones and whetstones; and some fifteen 
miles distant is the Crystal Mountain, which will one 
day supply the world with glasses for spectacles. 

This region would furnish an interesting field for 
the mineralogist. The country is free from all that 
would produce malaria; so that I should think a more 
healthful locality cannot be found. The streams are 
clear, and generally flow in a southern direction; for 
the whole water-shed is toward the south. The coun- 
try is but thinly settled, and the improvements only 
moderate, the land being too poor to tempt persons to 
make settlements, except in the valleys or near the 
water-courses. Game is yet plentiful in the forests; 
deer are abundant, and the streams are full of fish. 

The Hot Springs colony extends a distance of two 
miles along the valley, the average width of which 
does not exceed two hundred j^ards. Through the val- 
ley flows a small, clear brook, into which the waters of 
the Hot Springs are emptied. There is one main road, 
or street, which runs the whole length of the valley, 
and on each side of which are the j^rincipal buildings 
of the place, many of them standing across the stream. 
The buildings are entirely of wood, and generally of a 
cheap and inferior qualitj^, the legal title to the soil not 
being settled. I should think the permanent popula- 
tion does not exceed one thousand, while there are 
probably fifteen hundred visitors. Almost every house 



HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 479 

is either an hotel, a boarding-house, or a shop of some 
description. The visitors are from all parts of the 
country, either in search of health or nurses to those 
^Yho are afflicted. I supposed that where there were so 
many sick general gloom and melancholy would pre- 
vail, but the fact is very different. A large proportion 
of the invalids consider themselves improving, which 
renders their spirits buoyant, and delights their friends, 
so that we are a happ}^ set. 

With regard to the Hot Springs, which are the won- 
der and admiration of all who visit the place, a few 
words will not be amiss. There are between forty and 
fifty different springs, or jets; they are not mere seeps, 
but most of them are bold, strong springs. An area of 
one-quarter of a mile in length, and some two hundred 
yards in width., contains them all. They issue from a 
ledge of the ridge, two hundred feet high on its western 
slope, and each spring seems to be entirely independent 
of the others, the temperature of no two of them being 
precisely the same. There are none of a temperature 
lower than 110° Fah., while that of some is as high as 
160°. 

The mineral deposits are not at all alike in color; 
each spring has its own peculiar deposit. Where the 
water is conducted in open troughs the deposit is abun- 
dant; but when conducted in close j^ipes, there is no 
deposit at all. It seems that as soon as the water is 
exposed to the action of the atmosphere decomposition 
commences, certain properties being thrown off by 
cooling; so that it will be difficult to obtain a satisfac- 
tory analysis, as the water cannot be analyzed until it 
is partially cooled. I suppose we may account in this 
way for the fact that this water, when cool, is found to 
contain only seventeen per cent, of mineral substances, 



480 HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 

while it is an interesting fact that no vegetable matter 
has been found in it. 

The source of the heat of the water is not known. 
At first I supposed it to be the result of chemical ac- 
tion ; but I have changed my opinion ; for although the 
temperature of the different springs is not the same, yet 
in any one of them it is the same from day to day, and 
from 3'ear to year; and if we admit the heat to be the 
result of chemical action, we should expect variations 
in temperature, as the chemical supply might increase 
or diminish. It is farther worthy of note that no 
drought, however long continued, has ever diminished 
the amount of water, while floods of rain never increase 
it. These springs are independent of rain and dew, 
having no dependence on the condition of our atmos- 
phere, nor any connection with surface drainage, but 
continue their constant flow, as though they were from 
another world. 

The remedial agent in these waters has yet to be dis- 
covered; it cannot be the properties of the few minerals 
found in the water. But it will be found, if ever found 
at all, in the heat of the water; for the heat is cer- 
tainly of a peculiar kind. Any ordinary water, heated 
by chemical action — heated over a fire, for instance — 
will oifend the mucous membrane, and make the per- 
son drinking it sick. But not so with these waters; 
they ofl'end the stomach of no person, no matter what 
the temperature may be, or who it is that drinks; they 
are taken by persons whose stomachs are so irritable as 
not to retain any kind of fluid, and yet no stomach re- 
bels against them; and it is almost uniformly the case 
that those who use the hot water soon become fond of 
it, and want no other kind. I will say farther, with 
regard to the heat of these waters, that persons may 



HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 481 



bathe in them without any kind of prostration, at a 
temperature which would be unbearable in water heated 
over a fire. 

As to the medicinal properties of the water, we can 
only judge of them by the effects produced, which are, 
in many instances, truly wonderful. Take, for exam- 
ple, the case of a man of whom I have some knowl- 
edge, having interested myself in raising a small purse 
to pay for his humble board. He had been thrown 
into a wagon which was coming to the Springs from 
Little Rock, as you would throw in a worthless, filthy 
bundle; he was almost naked, and the miserable gar- 
ments that he had on him were cemented fast to his 
body by the discharges from his ulcers. He had on 
him more than eighty ulcers, some of them as large as 
a man's hand. He could not be admitted into any reg- 
ular bath, but was carried to the hill-side bath, which is 
a small excavation in the cavernous rock, filled with 
water from a hot spring close by. He was tumbled 
into this pool, and in two weeks he was walking about, 
the lesser ulcers already healed, and in six weeks he was 
cured, with scarcely a scar to be seen. A kind and 
merciful God has given to these waters the power of 
healing the most loathsome diseases. This fact, when 
it shall be knoAvn throughout the land, will bring un- 
numbered thousands here ; for here, I believe, they may 
find perfect soundness of health. Persons suffering 
Avith all kinds of diseases are here seeking relief; many 
are cured, others partly relieved, while some go away 
without' being benefited. 

Before I came I was told that consumptive persons 

would be injured by these baths; but the facts, as far as 

I can gather them, are to the contrary. I am told that 

persons who are affected with heart-disease are injured 

21 



482 HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 

by the bath. I buried one of this class the other day. 
He took a bath, and died that night. All diseases of 
the skin are either cured or more or less relieved. The 
other day I met a black boy, who said to me, "Don't 
you know Tom, who used to work for you?" Poor 
Tom, when he left my house, was so eaten up with 
scrofula that he was an offense to the sight. Not able 
to obtain even the advice of a doctor, he came here, and 
tumbled into this hill-side bath ; he is now a well, sleek, 
liearty negro. 

There should be some provision for the poor, and I 
suppose, if the title to the property should be settled, 
there will be. At present it is a sight which will not 
be forgotten to go to this hill-side bath when the poor, 
moneyless, and afflicted come to be healed; 3^ou would 
be filled with wonder, disgust, and astonishment; and 
it is worthy of note that while the rich give a dollar 
now and then for their relief, the poor help each other 
very much. A man who has use of one leg, with his 
crutch, will help the man who has no use of his legs at 
all; and it is sad to find many of them full of vulgarity 
and blasphemy; and yet they are more inclined to help 
each other than were those in the porches of the pool 
of Siloam ; for some person will help the meanest of 
the men into the pool. Here can be often seen some 
poor fellow outside, waiting to get into the mud-hole, as 
they call it, while some one already in the bath will curse 
him, and tell him to wait a little while till he shall come 
out, and he will drag his rotten carcass into the bath ; 
and while poor, diseased men have this roU-hola, as it is 
sometimes called, poor, unfortunate women have no 
])rovision made for them at all, though some of them, I 
have heard, visit this same pool in the dark hours of 
the night. Besides this general bath there are several 



HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 483 

small boles, where persons can go and take a foot-bath. 
There is water enough running from these springs to 
bathe many thousands every day. The water may be 
carried in pipes almost any distance, as it does not lose 
its virtue when conveyed in a close pipe. The time 
will come when all these springs will be utilized to an 
extent that has not yet been imagined. 

With regard to the moral aspect of the place, I should 
say it is not good. The Methodists had the misfortune 
to have their house of worship burned some time ago, 
and have not since been able to rebuild. The Catholics 
have a house and a priest, and, I suppose, a small con- 
gregation. The Episcopalians have a house, but no 
regular minister, and but few members. The Presby- 
terians have neither house nor preacher. The Baptists 
have a small house, badl}^ situated, but no regular 
preacher. The Methodists have a preacher and a con- 
gregation, and worship in the Baptist church. The 
preacher is a young man of talent and usefulness, but 
feels himself fettered because he has no house. His 
Sunday-school is a union school, so that our literature 
cannot be admitted, and badly do the children need it. 
This is a great drawback these days. The time has 
been when the Church prospered without a Sunday- 
school, but that time has passed. There are a number 
of good and pious people in this valley; but the multi- 
tude pay no attention to Church-matters. I think that 
if the Methodists had a comfortable house for worship, 
an active, working minister might do great good. I 
have preached for the people almost every Sabbath 
since T have been here — sometimes in the Episcopal 
church (it has not been dedicated), but mostly in the 
Baptist church. The congregations have been good, 
generally, and quite an interest has been manifested to 



484 HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 



hear the word; but there has been nothing like a re- 
vival among the people 

A few days ago I was called on to officiate at the burial 
of a young man, who left no trace of his identity except 
the name on the hotel register; no one knew where he 
lived, where he was from; his nge had to be guessed at; 
we could not tell whether he was a single man or man 
of family; and as to his moral character, no one knew 
a word. 

There is a wide field for pastoral work among the 
hundreds who are sick in this valley. The country 
generally, it seems to me, is such as would suit a man 
of moderate means. In the depression, and along the 
water-courses, there are small tracts of good land, 
where an abundance of graiir, fruits, and vegetables 
might be raised ; and these Springs will always furnish a 
good market for any surplus. The country is health- 
ful, the climate pleasant, lands can be bought low, 
very low, and railroads are beginning to open up 
the country to the rest of the world. I wish you had 
the time to spend a few months here, for with the rest 
and the baths I think your wasted sight would be re- 
stored. 1873. 

The night after leaving IN'ashville we had one of the 
most fearful rain-storms that I ever experienced, and 
on reaching Memphis the whole land seemed to be 
covered with water, so- that the six o'clock train for 
Little Rock did not go out, and we spent the day in 
Memphis, and took the evening train, which was a 
frightful-looking prospect. The Mississippi was out 
of its banks, and for forty miles there w^as nothing but 
one vast sea of water, save the narrow embankment 
upon wdiich the train crept slowl}" along. I took a 



HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 485 

berth in the sleeping-car, nnd committing m3^self into 
the hands of that Almighty Power that rules in heaven 
and earth, I closed my eyes upon the dangers around 
me, and at earl}^ dawn rose just in time to see the train 
pass over the new and splendid bridge that spans the 
Arkansas Eiver at Little Eock. The trip had been 
made safely with an immense train and a multitude of 
passengers We were in time to make the necessary 
connection, and at eight o'clock landed at the depot, 
where we took stage for the Springs; and although I 
am rather an old traveler, I think the road was the 
worst I ever saw — there was not one mile of good road 
in the twenty-two; it had rained almost every day for 
weeks, and the amount of travel was immense, so that 
the road was frightful; but, at the rate of a littFe over 
two miles per hour, we made the trip in safety. There 
was a good deal of stalling, and some upsetting, and 
we passed through some streams where the water ran 
into our hack, yet we all escaped with our lives. 

So man}^ had passed on before us, notwithstanding 
the difficulties of the way, that we found the pub- 
lic houses at the Springs so crowded that we had to 
drive around for some time before we could find quar- 
ters. The number here at present is much greater 
than at any previous time at this season of the year. 
Tlie visitors are mainly from the East and North — but 
few from the South, though they are now beginning to 
come in. 

Our Church here is improving; Brother Morris, the 
preacher in charge, is an earnest, working man, and, I 
think, will do much good. We are worshi2)ing in the 
Protestant Episcopal church at present; they have no 
minister, and wc have no house, having had the mis- 
fortune to have our church burned down. AYe have a 



486 HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS. 



good Sunday-school, not a union school — as last year — • 
but a Methodist school, pretty well supplied with our 
books. The members and friends of our school have 
determined to build a house this summer; the lot is se- 
cured, a building-committee appointed, and if any per- 
son at a distance should feel inclined to help them it 
would be thankfully received. 

I have preached twice every Sunday since I have 
been here — in the morning in the Episcopal church, 
and at night in the dining-room of the Grand Central 
Hotel, to good congregations; am not only the helping 
preacher in the station, but am now appointed by Dr. 
Hunter as assistant Presiding Elder. An Arkansas 
District is something worth talking about — too large 
for one man. 

I find from several suggestions in the papers, but 
more especially from letters that I am receiving from 
various directions, that there will be more changes 
called for at our approaching General Conference than 
I had anticipated. I had supposed that we should have 
but little to do, and should be able to get through in 
about two weeks, but the indications are that we shall 
have a long session. Some wish to do away with the 
home missions altogether, others wish to direct all 
our attention to the home work and abandon the for- 
eign missions; and so we go. I think we shall have 
to give our missionary system an airing^ and. make 
some changes, but it is difficult to tell what would be for 
the best; some wish the Conferences to act separately 
and independently, others go for concentration. I think 
the more connectional we are, in the main, the better, 
and that we ought to watch with caution every thing 
that looks like an independent or congregational sys- 
tem. Some think it would be best to district the cpis- 



bishops' meeting in ST. LOUIS. 487 

copal work, and thereby get rid of the clamor that 
comes up in various quarters for more episcopal service. 
Some wish to do away with the Church Conference, 
and so change the law with reference to District Con- 
ferences as to hold them only when and where a Bishop 
can be present, and others are inclined to give these 
Conferences more power and authority. And of late 
the w^oman-movement in the Temperance cause has 
greatly excited some persons on the subject, and they 
are of the opinion that we should have some legislation 
upon that matter. On all of these questions we should 
make haste slowly. 

I think the Church in this section of the country is 
prosperous in the main, and am glad to find that the 
Yanderbilt enterprise is very popular; when we once 
get under way there will be an immense patronage 
from this country. I trust my health is improving, and 
that this will find you well and happy. 1874. 



Bishops' Meeting in St. Louis. 

The Bishops' Meeting in St. Louis was one of extra- 
ordinary interest; they were all present with the ex- 
ception of Bishops Early and Marvin — Bishop Early 
being unable to attend from the infirmities of old age, 
and Bishop Marvin from distance, being in California. 
There were also present quite a number of ministers 
and laymen, leading members of the Church. The 
friends in St. Louis fully appreciated the occasion, and 
made ample provision for it. I am happy to be able to 
say that the Church in St. Louis is keeping up with 
the increase of population and growth of the cit}'-, and 
is a power in the community. The church-buildings 



488 bishops' meeting in st. louis. 

are in good taste, and fully up with the age and the 
improved style of architecture. The congregations are 
large, and the ministers in charge of them fully equal 
to the demands made upon them. St. John's, which 
was dedicated during this meeting, is a perfect gem; in 
design, style, and finish, it is fiiultless; and is now com- 
pleted at a cost of about one hundred thousand dollars. 
Centenary congregation laid the corner-stone of a new 
church during the meeting, which I understand is to 
exceed St. John's in its cost and appointments. 

There was a Sunday-school convention of the St. 
Louis District during the meeting of the Bishops, but 
it took into its deliberations members of the Church 
generally. I was permitted to witness a part of the 
proceedings of this convention ; and while I think good 
was accomplished by the free discussion of many points 
of interest that came before the body, yet I thought I 
saw a disposition to do something, instead of having 
something to do. When we have something to do we 
are generally practical, but when it is a mere effort to 
do something, it is mainlj" theory — a mere resolution 
meeting. While on this subject, permit me to say to all 
concerned — as there is a disposition for Sunday-school 
conventions among our people, which I am glad to see — 
if we do any thing that will to any considerable extent 
promote the interest of Sunday-schools, we shall have to 
work in sympathy with our present machinery on the 
subject ; the Church could not conveniently run two sys- 
tems. We shall have to keep the Sunday-school inside 
the Church-organization, which is a fine one on this 
subject. Let those conventions work under that char- 
ter, then there will be less friction and no strife, and 
great good will be the result. 

The mass-meeting of the Sunday-schools in the cit}' 



bishops' meeting in ST. LOUIS. 489 

■was a decided success; the weather was fine, the hall 
in which the gathering took place is immense in pro- 
portions, and every way suited the occasion. I should 
think there were fifteen hundred children present, with 
the teachers and officers, and then enough outsiders to 
make two thousand persons. No one fell sick, no one 
fainted, no disturbance of any kind reached my eye or 
ear; the music was transporting; the address was list- 
ened to with seeming pleasure; the young folks in their 
best attire, with their joy-lit eyes and smiling faces 
furnished a picture of beauty exceeding the reaches of 
fancy. The banners and mottoes were in good taste 
and very impressive; altogether it was a success in the 
fullest sense of the word. 

There was what was called a "greeting to the Bish- 
ops." This came off in the First Church, which was 
crowded to overflowing. There was a sj^ice of novelty 
in the proceedings which helped to increase the inter- 
est. The exercises were opened with singing and 
prayer; the music was appropriate and inspiring; the 
prayer was offered by Dr. Smith, whom I was grieved 
to find so worn and tired; he is overworked, and must 
have rest; yet his mighty intellect seems to retain its 
former power and clearness. Then followed a very 
handsome address from Governor Polk, a lay-member 
of the congregation — a welcome of the Bishops to the 
hearts and homes of the Methodists of the city of St. 
Louis, which was well conceived and handsomely 
delivered. Then came the response of the Bishops. 
I had supposed that they would select one of their 
number to speak for the whole College, but was 
pleased to find that each one Avas going to respond in 
his own way; and glad to notice how completely they 
preserved their individuality; there was no running 
21* 



490 THE bishops' meeting in ST. LOUIS. 

in each other's grooves, but each followed his own nat- 
ural bent in manner, style, and conception, which gave 
a remarkable interest to the occasion. Bishop Andrew 
led off, and Bishop McTyeire brought up the rear. 
They said nothing which I wanted left out; nor left 
out any thing which I wanted said. The only thing 
wanting to have made the occasion perfect was, that 
they were not regularly introduced by name, though 
that was no trouble to me, as I knew them all ; but 
there were hundreds who did not know who was ad- 
dressing them; yet the occasion was one to be remem- 
bered. The Bishops were honored, and they deserved 
it; for if labor and sacrifice on one hand, and useful- 
ness to the Church and devotion to the cause of God 
on the other, create any obligation on the part of those 
who receive the benefit, a debt of honor and gratitude 
is due the Bishops of the Methodist Ejiiscopal Church, 
South. 

Our missionary meeting was an occasion of consid- 
erable interest. It also was held in the First Church. 
The audience was large, and Dr. McFerrin, the Secre- 
tary of the Domestic Board, made a telling speech — one 
that will not soon be forgotten. He was followed in a 
few remarks by Bishop Pierce, and a collection of about 
eighteen hundred dollars was taken up for domestic 
missions. 

The interview between the Bishops of the Methodist 
Episcopal Church (North) and the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church, South, has passed under your eye before 
this writing, and I am not inclined at present to make 
any comment. 

I cannot close without saying something with respect 
to St. Louis hospitality: I never saw it surpassed in 
liberality, elegance, and good taste; and none excelled 



THE CHURCH INTERESTS. 491 

mine host, Brother L. D. Dameron. I was also im- 
pressed with the evidences of improvement: the city- 
is growing like magic, and every thing seems to be 
done on a large and liberal scale. ' I am under obliga- 
tions to so many of the good people and the preachers 
of that great and growing city, that I cannot under- 
take to mention them by name; but can only say, May 
*Tod reward them ! ^, iseo. 



The Church Interests.* 

I HAVE been thinking of writing to you for some 
time, and will no longer delay. I see that the Board 
of Foreign Missions is to meet during the session of 
the Conference in March. Will it be necessary for me 
to attend? If it is, I shall try to be present; and if it 
is not, I can find employment enough at home. As the 
President of the Domestic Board, I have been trying to 
guard the interest of the Foreign Society as well as I 
could; and yet I think there are some points of diffi- 
cult}^ existing that ought to be looked into, lest the 
Domestic Board and domestic interest, like the lean 
kine, devour the Foreign. The old debt should be paid, 
and foreign missions sustained; but no doubt you will 
be able to manage these matters without my assist- 
ance. 

I am glad to find that your paper is doing so well. I 
have never failed to recommend it wherever I have 
been, and I think it will ultimately obtain a wide cir- 
culation in this country; it will grow and prosper. 
The fact that it commenced under circumstances which 
made economy and great prudence necessary, in order 

* Correspondence of the Baltimore Episcopal Methodist. 



492 THE CHURCH INTERESTS. 

that it should sustain itself, will in the end result in its 
favor; if it can travel so rough a path in its infancy, 
what will it be able to do when it shall have gathered 
strength, and its way shall become smooth ? At present 
the South (the whole South) is struggling with difficul- 
ties; and as men can live without a newspaper, but 
cannot live without bread, thousands are surely wait- 
ing until they shall be able to enjoy health. 

It is truly gratifying to see that, notwithstanding the 
terrible pressure that is upon the country, churches are 
being built and repaired, the Publishing House is more 
than sustaining itself, old debts are being paid, Sab- 
bath-schools are prospering, and thousands upon thou- 
sands are knocking at the door of the poor, persecuted 
Church for admission ; and while many of the preachers 
on circuits cannot find among their friends the food to 
feed their horses, they have given up riding, and are 
walking round their circuits with a clean collar, and a 
Bible and hymn-book in their pockets — and the sound 
of their Master's feet is heard behind them. The trial 
through which we are passing is dreadfully fiery; but 
we are passing through it, thank God! There is less 
complaining and better work done than when the straw 
was supplied. Every day is furnishing history, upon 
which coming generations will look with astonishment. 
The days of the martyrs have come again; every man 
seems to feel his responsibility. Our Bishops are work- 
ing as they never worked before. 

The acts of our last General Conference were just 
what we needed, and I am rejoiced to believe that the 
two measures now before the Annual Conferences will 
be carried. "Were the vote on the change of name to 
be taken over again in the Tennessee Conference, I do 
not think there would be one-half dozen against it. 



CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 493 

The brethren were influenced by a false fear of evil 
consequences — no matter what. 

Give my kindest regards to Dr. Sehon, Dr. Bond, and 
anybody you i^lease. God bless you and the paper, and 
all the interests of the Church! i867. 



Conference and Missions.* 

On leaving for the Baltimore Conference, or rather 
the meeting of the Board of Foreign Missions, I prom- 
ised to write to you; and as letter-writing seems to be 
one of the fashions of the day, I have resolved to try 
my hand. I lelt Nasliville, accompanied by Dr. Mc- 
Ferrin, on tlie evening train, and had to pass the night 
on the cars. There was a sleeper attached; but sleep- 
ing-cars are a failure so far as I am concerned. They 
always beget a feeling of confinement which makes it 
impossible for me to rest or sleep; so that I have aban- 
doned them altogether. The seats in the regular pas- 
senger-car are not intended for a bed ; they will do very 
well to sit on; but for a man of my size to attempt to 
lie on them is not to be thought of; the hard corners 
and sharp edges are constantly disturbing my peace, 
and I am too large to be tied up and stowed away in so 
small a space. 

I have never been able to make a night on a rail- 
road train either profitable or comfortable. Even my 
senses are of very little service to me; I cannot see 
well enough to make my eyes useful, and the noise of 
the train renders my ears equally useless, Avhile my 
thoughts are confused by the jarring, quivering mo- 
tion; so that at night 1 am in a state of mental nonen- 

■-•'■ Correspondence of the Nashville Chrisiian Advocate. 



494 CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 

tity, or waking nightmare; and the snoring of fat men 
and the crying of children have a wasting, wearing 
eifect on my patience. During the day I have found it 
no easy matter to employ my time profitably. I cannot 
read with comfort, as the motion is so tremulous that it 
requires an effort when I end one line to find the begin- 
ning of the next; and constantly thinking that im 
exertion of this kind involves a danger of irritating 
the nervous centers makes reading more laborious than 
pleasant. Talking is also difficult; if I begin when all 
is still, as soon as we get in motion I find that I am 
talking in too low a key, and have to use a kind of 
mental pitch-pipe to raise the tone of voice, or talk 
sharp on a flat, which would soon wear out any pair of 
lungs. If I commence conversation when under way, 
just as soon as we stop I find myself talking too loud, 
and have to come down, which is difficult to do without 
destroying the effect of what is said. If I become list- 
ener, the difiiculty seems to increase; not being able to 
hear distinctly, I do not know when to say, "To be sure!" 
"You don't say so!" "Is it possible?" and I never did 
like to say continually, "I do n't understand you;" and 
to see a man's lips moving, and his head nodding and 
shaking, and gesticulating and pointing with his hands, 
and not be able to hear what he is saying, is to me most 
ludicrous. If I get to a window to look out at the 
country, I can see only on one side, and that very im- 
perfectly. When the train approaches an elevation, 
from which a good view could be obtained, we are sud- 
denly plunged into a cut, and cannot see any thing at all; 
when we pass through a valley, the hills obstruct the 
view, and the rapid motion will not allow the objects 
within range of vision to be seen to advantage. A con- 
sideration of all these circumstances impels me to say. 



CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 495 

emphatically, that the only benefit to be derived from 
traveling by rail is that you soon arrive at your desti- 
nation. Give me a steam-boat or a buggy, always! 

When we reached Abingdon Dr. McFerrin left me, 
as he had made an appointment at that place for the 
Sabbath; but I was afraid to stop, lest I should be too 
late for my engagement at Baltimore. Although the 
cars were well filled with passengers, I w^as now alone, 
as I generally fail to make acquaintances while travel- 
ing. When I set out to travel with company, my ar- 
rangements embrace them only, and I have no disposi- 
tion to add to or diminish their number. It sometimes 
happens that something very amusing may be seen on a 
train. I frequently see persons who are in constant fear 
that the train will carry them past the place at which 
they wish to stop, as they know nothing more than 
the name of the station. On this trip I saw one man 
who sprang to his feet several times, when the whistle 
blew, and, gathering up his bundle, wildly inquired, 
"What place is this?" The brakeman, who forces open 
the door and cries out the names of stations, speaks 
the words in such a way that I seldom know^ what he 
says. My anxious friend was all attention, and was 
never satisfied until he could learn the name of the 
place. He would then say, "That 's not it," and again 
take his seat. At one timcwhen the whistle blew, and 
the brakeman shouted out something, no one could tell 
what, my friend snatched up his bundle, saying, "What 
place did he say it is?" I replied that I did not under- 
stand him. By this time we were again in motion, and 
the conductor came reeling by in hot haste after the 
fare of an old lady who had just come on board. My 
friend plucked him, asking, "What place is this?" The 
conductor did not stop, nor even look back, but hastily 



496 CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 

said, "Mossy Creek." "That's not it," said the man. 
A lad came by, and burst into a loud laugh, saying, "I 
thought the brakeman said, 'Mollie's feet!''' The fact 
is, conductors are so much worried with questions that 
they will not stop to talk to a man unless he appears to 
be a person of imj^ortance. 

The brave engine-reinsman held the flaming, metal- 
lic steed to the track, and over the plains, through the 
tangled forests, across the streams, and among the sul- 
len rocks and everlasting hills, Ave went rattling, whirl- 
ing, smoking, snorting, and shouting defiantly, by day 
and by night, and in about fifty hours halted at Wash- 
ington City, where I rested for the night. The next 
day was the holy Sabbath, and soon after breakfast I 
went in search of a Southern Methodist Church, which 
I very soon found. The Sunday-school had not yet 
opened, though the children were collecting. I asked 
a lad, "What church is this?" "It belongs to the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, South," was the answer. 
"Who is your jireacher?" "Mr. Tudor," said he, "and 
he is the best preacher in the city." It was not long 
before Mr. Tudor made his appearance, and it was truly 
gratifying to see with what pleasure all eyes turned 
upon him. He seemed to be perfectly at home, and was 
master of the situation. At eleven o'clock I had the 
pleasure of listening to a sermon preached by the Eev. 
S. Keppler, who is a well-sustained, elegant Christian 
gentleman, and is an honor to his calling — a fine speci- 
men of a man and Christian minister. There was an 
apjDointment for me at night, but I was so hoarse from 
cold I could not speak. The pastor, Mr. Tudor, took 
ray place, and did his work well. In person, expres- 
sion, manner, voice, mind, and no doubt feeling, he is a 
striking likeness of the now sainted Baldwin. 



CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 497 

On the next morning I visited the White House, and 
had a pleasant interview with President Johnson. I 
found him in good health, and as far as I could see, in 
good spirits. He is hopeful with regard to the future 
welfare of the country, having confidence in the good 
sense and integrity of the people. It was a treat to 
find a man with so much confidence in the people, when 
I had been thinking that they had brought the coun- 
try into the trouble of which we complained. In the 
evening I ran up to Baltimore, and was soon in the 
midst of friends, both of the ministry and laity. 

In speaking of the Conference and Board of Missions, 
and the manifestations of kindness, hospitality, and 
fraternity, in both the fiimily circles and the great con- 
gregation, I have not the least fear of overstating any 
thing. I think the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, 
appreciates the course taken b}^ the Baltimore Confer- 
ence in connecting her destiny with the Southern 
Church. It seems to me there was in their act a re- 
markable freedom from worldly -mindedness, selfish- 
ness, and all the sordid tendencies of human nature. 
They came to us in the day of our calamity. It is not 
common for persons to quit their rich relations, and go 
and knock at the door of their poor kin, and ask to live 
with them in their poverty. The Baltimore Confer- 
ence did not come to us on account of the greatness of 
our numbers, the richness of our membership, the ex- 
tensiveness of our publishing interests, or the fatness 
of our treasury; they came to us when we seemed to 
be in ruins, scattered, peeled, and wasted in substance, 
and persecuted by the strong. They came from prin- 
ciple; it shows itself in every act; you cannot find a 
mean-looking man in the whole body; they can look 
you in the eye and talk of right, conscience, princi]>lo; 



498 CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 

and yet they came so meekly, so quietly, asking no ova- 
tion, no office, no distinction. ThatGrod who regards the 
right is evidentl}^ with them. Neither was it a youth- 
ful freak of wild adventure; they are men of age, of 
mark, of usefulness, who would be an ornament in any 
society, and worthy of any pulpits in America. They 
deserve honor, and they have it. 

The business of the Board was well attended to; all 
the distant members were present — Drs. Deems, Head, 
and Cunnyngham — and it was pleasant to see with what 
interest and earnestness they entered upon the work 
before them. 

As to the Conference, you have full information. 
Some of the popular meetings held during the session 
were occasions of remarkable interest. The Sunday- 
school gatherings at the Central and Trinity Churches 
were transcendent. Dr. Eoszell and Dr. Hall were 
happy men. On Sunday, at 3 p.m., Dr. Eoszell saw the 
lambs of his flock gathered together, and was justly 
proud of them; his great, generous heart swelled and 
throbbed with pleasure, and every expression of his 
manly face spoke forth his inward joy. At Trinity, on 
Tuesday night. Dr. Hall gathered up his strength in 
the Sunday-school department, with the devices of each 
class and their offerings for the promotion of missions 
and Sunday-schools in the poor and laboring Church in 
the South, which amounted to something more than 
one thousand dollars. In the vast witnessing assembly 
every heart was moved, every soul inspired, and all 
talked poetry. Bishop Wightman seemed to stand on 
air, and the words fell from his lips with a strange 
sweetness. Dr. Sargent will never be as happy again 
till he gets to heaven ; to his poetry there seemed to be 
no end. It was an occasion which I think I shall never 



CONFERENCE AND MISSIONS. 499 

forget. I saw class after class with their offerings be- 
fore the Lord; but the most tender and delicate chords 
of my nature were never struck till the infant-class 
appeared; they were as clean and neat as freshly-pol- 
ished stars on a frosty night, and their faces glowed 
with pleasure; their eyes so dazzled with joy that they 
really seemed to give out light; and then there came 
sweeping over the waste of eighteen hundred years the 
words of the Master, saying, "Suffer little children to 
come unto me, and forbid them not." I looked for 
something in nature with which to compare these chil- 
dren, and thought of the cactus grandiflora^ or night- 
blooming cereus — the bloom of which is too tender and 
delicate to encounter the warm sunshine and dry, 
parching winds of noonday,, and only comes forth to be 
looked upon'by the pale light of stars, and to receive 
the soft kiss of the air when it is mild and subdued and 
made sweet by the dew of night — but there was too 
little life and motion in these. I then thought of some 
gentle, harmless insect, with its polished crown, its 
gilded wings, and velvet robe, which had taken a deli- 
cate morsel for its supper, and folded its wings, and se- 
lected as its chamber of repose the highly-adorned cup 
of the drooping fuchsia, and was rocked to sleep by the 
light breath of evening, perfumed by the odor of a thou- 
sand flowers, and arose the next morning and washed 
its face and hands in a drop of dew; but that would 
not do, and I dashed it aside and thought of heaven, 
because every thing else was far below. 

The Conference missionary meeting and Sunday- 
school anniversaries Avere all successful; yet it may be 
that I am like the boy who had just returned from a 
quarterly-meeting, and being questioned with regard 
to the kind of meeting they had, said, "First-rate; we 



500 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

had the nicest kind of weather, and I had a mighty good 
place to stay." 

I think I may safely say that the Methodist Church, 
South, in all her interests, is growing and strengthen- 
ing in Maryland. The preachers were nearly all pres- 
ent, and, as far as I know, enjoyed good health, having 
suffered no loss by death or confirmed affliction during 
the year. They were well dressed, and gave evidence 
that they had been among their friends. The next ses- 
sion of the Conference will be held at Trinity Church, 
which is falling into line, and promises to be a power in 
the Church for usefulness. There is to the South gen- 
erally, and to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, 
especially, something in the words Maryland and Balti- 
more that makes the action of the heart quicken with 
emotions of gratitude. I must say that as far as I can 
sec in the Church, there is an evident spirit prompt- 
ing both ministry and laity to increased labor and 
sacrifice. 

It would be unjust to close without saying that there 
is a genuine conviction among our people that the 
Church has made no mistake in the selection of men 
for the episcopal office, and that our Bishops are, in 
labors, sacrifices, and usefulness, noble examples to the 
rest of the ministry. 



The Church, North and South. 

Having seen, from time to time, various articles in 
your paper concerning the difficulties in the Church in 
East Tennessee, growing out of the persecutions of the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, South, by the Methodist 
Episcopal Church, North; and having spent some time 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 501 

in the bounds of the Holston Conference, which em- 
braces the section of country where the troubles com- 
plained of have chiefly occurred; and not being mixed 
up with the contention and strife in any way, it has 
occurred to me that I might state some facts with re- 
gard to this matter that would enlighten your readers. 
But it will first be necessary to make some general 
statements; for there are other sections of the country 
where kindred troubles exist, all having as a founda- 
tion the same class of errors. It will be understood 
b}^ the reader that these difficulties and disagreements 
are found between two branches of the Methodist 
Church — the Methodist Episcopal Church, North, and 
the Methodist Episcopal Church, South — and in this 
article I shall use the words "North" and "South" as 
distinguishing terms for the purpose of brevity. I am 
in some respects better prepared to write on this sub- 
ject than many others. In the first place, I am in a 
good humor— have not been insulted and irritated; and 
in the next place, I have occupied a position which has 
enabled me to make myself ftimiliar with all the facts, 
changes, and phases connected with the subject, from 
the beginning of the dispute up to this hour, and I 
write this article simply because it seems no one else 
will do it, and trust I am prompted by a good motive, 
which is, that all may know the facts as they are. It 
will be no part of my work to abuse any one, or call 
hard names — far from it. I am for peace, and wish to 
promote the cause of God and our common Methodism, 
and if the reader will receive it in the spirit in which 
it is written, it will do him good. 

In order to understand the true nature of the present 
difficulty between the Cliurch, North and South, we 
must carry the reader back to the beginning of those 



502 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

troubles. This is the more necessary from the fiict 
that tha Church, South, is called a rebel Church, a se- 
cession Church, a disloyal Church; while the Church, 
North, claims to be the mother Church, the old Church, 
the loyal Church. Now, if these representations were 
true, then it would be right for honest men to make 
use of the facts in promoting the interests of the 
Church, North; but if these distinctions do not exist in 
fact, they cannot be pleaded for or against, as the case 
may be. This will carry us back to the General Con- 
ference of 1844. T shall merely state the great leading 
facts. This General Conference consisted of some- 
thing over two hundred delegates. The South had 
fifty-two, and the North about one hundred and fifty; 
this was not only a majority of two-thirds, but nearly 
three-fourths. So you wMll see at a glance that the 
North had the power to do just any thing it wished, 
without paying the slightest attention to the speeches 
or votes of the South. I entreat you not to forget this 

filCt. 

The North wished to depose Bishop Andrew because 
he was connected with slavery — not because he was 
acting in violation of the law of God or of the Church, 
but because a large portion of the membership of the 
Church in the Northern States believed slavery was 
contrary to the spirit of Christianity, and as our epis- 
copacy was a unit, and a Bishop was a universal pastor 
of the Church, and Bishop Andrew, as Bishop, be- 
longed as much to the Church in the Northern as in 
the Southern States, and the Northern Methodists would 
not receive him as Bishop, and as it was not expedient 
that he be continued as Bishop, he must be deposed. 
Now, mark well — the South went for the Discipline of 
the Church as it was, and with the Discipline and law 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 503 

of the Church in its hands entered on the defense of 
Bishop Andrew. The North went outside of the Dis- 
cipline and law of the Church, substituting instead 
thereof expediency as their law, and deposed Bishop 
Andrew. Now, here was where the first crack was 
made and the split began; and I shall leave the reader 
to determine who did the slabbinc*. The South asked 
for no law of expediency; so that if there must be a 
secession, who seceded? Not the South — they asked 
for no change, wanted none. If you are a candid man 
and disposed to tell the truth, and still will have it that 
somebody seceded, you must be compelled to acknowl- 
edge that the North seceded, and that that is the rebel 
Church, so far as disloyalty to Methodism is con- 
cerned. 

When the General Conference took action and de- 
posed Bishop Andrew, all that the Southern delegates 
could do was to enter a protest against the action of 
the Conference; they were powerless in the hands of 
the majority. But did not the Southern delegates di- 
vide the Church? How could they divide the Church? 
They could have taken up their hats and come home, 
but that would not have divided the Church. Just at 
this point I wish the reader to mark well the step 
taken; and what I say is not taken from any history, 
but is asserted from what I saw and heard, being there. 
The first man I heard mention the word division was 
the Eev. Mr. Eaper, of Ohio, who took me out and told 
me that we would have to divide — belabored me for 
some time on the subject. The next man that made 
an argument to me on the subject 'was the Rev. Dr. 
Elliott. This was after the matter had been suggested 
by a number of Northern ministers, and after I had 
made a speech on the Conference-floor against division, 



504 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

a synopsis of which is to be found in the published 
records of that Conference. Dr. Elliott came to my 
room, as I supposed, by appointment from among his 
Northern brethren, to induce me to consent to a divis- 
ion. He stayed with me all night; lay upon my bed, 
by my side; brought up many arguments in favor of 
division, some of which I remember to this hour. He 
said the subject of slavery would continue to agitate 
us while together, but if divided, the agitation would 
cease; that where a family could not agree they had 
better separate, and merel}^ visit each other occasion- 
ally; and that more fraternity and good feeling would 
exist between us, when separated, than if we were to 
continue together and keep wrangling all the time on 
the subject of slavery. When I told him J was afraid 
of the consequences, he directed me to the Canada 
Church, saying that they prospered more since separa- 
tion than before. But his main argument was the ex- 
tent of territory — that we were covering too much sur- 
face, and the representation w^ould soon be so great 
in a few years that no General Conference could be 
accommodated. 

At length the South agreed that a committee should 
be appointed to see whether a plan could be made for 
an equitable division of the Church; and who ap- 
pointed that committee? The Northern preachers, for 
the Southern had no power to do any thing of them- 
selves. The committee agreed on a plan, submitted it 
to the Conference, and it was adopted. Now, I ask the 
candid reader, Who divided the Church? The North- 
ern majority performed the act that suggested the ne- 
cessity; the Northern majority carried out the sugges- 
tion. I suppose I need not go any fjirther to prove 
tluit tlie Southern Church is not a secession; far from 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 505 



it. Wc are within the old huidmarks, cabling the old 
ship to the stakes driven by Asbury and McKendree. 

A few words with respect to the old Church, mother 
Church. Who planted Methodism in New England? 
It was a Southern preacher. Who established Meth- 
odism in Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois? It was Southern 
preachers. And if you should be governed by the map 
of the country, and age of the Church in each division, 
you will soon find that the old Church is in the South. 
It must be a bad cause that would seek to prop itself 
by any such flummery as that the Church, North, is 
the old Church, the mother Church; for every w^ell- 
informed Methodist must know that one of two things 
is true: that the person who makes such representa- 
tions is either ignorant or willfully falsifies. 

Now as to the loyalty of the Church. If by loyalty 
we are to understand being true to Methodism, the vSouth 
claims the preference; if it means fealty to the Gov- 
ernment, all that is necessary on the subject is to refer 
them to our Discipline and Articles of Faith; they are 
the same now" that they were before the war, and were 
the same during the war — they were never changed. 
Other denominations, w^iose services consist mainly in 
written forms, made changes; but the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, South, made no change; so that in a po- 
litical point of view no charge can be made against 
that Church on the score of loyalty. 

The next point of interest is on the question of 
Church-property. The General Conference of 1844, to 
which so much reference has already been made, did 
make out a "Plan of Separation" of the Church, fix- 
ing on a line that should be regarded as the dividing- 
line between the two coordinate branches of the 
Church : all of the churches, school-houses, parsonages, 



^}\> 



506 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

and cemeteries south of that line were to belong to the 
Southern Church, and all north of it to the Northern. 
This the General Conference had a right to do. But 
there was a certain interest which had been held in 
common by the Church — the Book Concern and Char- 
tered Fund. According to the line of geographical di- 
vision this interest fell within the line of the Northern 
Church, and by that same "Plan of Separation," or 
contract, or articles of agreement between the parties, 
the Church, North, was to pay over to the Church, 
South, her p7'o rata according to the respective number 
of traveling preachers, as this interest was regarded as 
the property of the ministry. The Church, South, 
without delay, threw itself into a 2:)roperly organized 
condition, and appointed an agent to receive the 
amount due to the South, and a formal application was 
made; but the agent of the Northern Church refused 
to pay over the amount, on the ground that the Re- 
strictive Article had not been removed, which prohib- 
its the agents of these interests from paying over the 
proceeds to any save the traveling preachers, and the 
widows and orphans of traveling preachers. It was 
pleaded by the preachers from the South, when the 
General Conference of 1844 proposed to send the ques- 
tion around to the Conferences, that they might, by a 
three-fourths vote, remove the restriction ; the South- 
ern delegates said that it was unnecessary, as we were 
not creating any new object of appropriation. This 
view was assented to, but the Northern delegates said 
they wanted the restriction taken off for other pur- 
poses, and the question was sent around, and failed by 
some eight or ten votes, though some of the Northern 
Conferences refused to act at all in the matter. But of 
those Conferences which did act the vote fell a little short 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 507 

of three-fourtlis. This the agent of the Church, Xorth, 
with his commissioners, regarded as a bar to their pay- 
ing over the amount due to the South under the con- 
tract. 

So things continued until the meeting of the Gen- 
eral Conference of the Church, North, in 1848. This 
Conference decided that the General Conference of 1844 
had no right or power to make any such contract, and 
pronounced the whole act void. 

The Church, South, brought suit against the agents 
of the Church, ISTorth, for said interest, and finally 
gained it by the decision of the Supreme Court of the 
United States, on the ground that the contract made 
by the Conference of 1844 was a valid one. The valid- 
ity of this contract being thus established, the right of 
the Church, South, to her propert}^ is vindicated; for 
it will be borne in mind that the Eestrictive Article 
did not lie against churches, parsonages, etc.; so that 
her right to the property within her limits was direct, 
and without question or embarrassment. 

The facts now to be stated I will not attempt to 
prove, as I suppose they will not be questioned. 

First. The Church, North, is now in possession of 
quite a number of churches and parsonages, which be- 
fore the war were the property of the Church, South. 

Second. There are a number of persons who are 
claimed and counted as members of the Church, North, 
who were before the war members of the Church, 
South; and this change in many instances has been 
brought about without the act or volition of said per- 
sons. And I would farther state as a fact, that the 
preachers of the Church, North, are not willing that 
the preachers of the Church, South, should return and 



508 THE CHURCH, NOllTH AND SOUTH. 



preiich to their former congregations. These facts we 
take for granted. 

It will be our duty, in the farther investigation of 
this subject, to show how this state of things was pro- 
duced. It is due to the Methodists of East Tennessee 
that I should say that before the war they were as 
true to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, as far 
as I know, as other portions of the Church; but at the 
outbreak of the war there was found in this section of 
country a strong Union element, growing out of the 
fact that the Democrats were less inclined to farther 
endure the oppressive course of the North than the 
"Whigs were, and East Tennessee was a decided Whig 
country. 

The first movement that was made which requires 
particular notice here was this: As the Confederate 
army fell back and the country was taken possession 
of by the Federal forces, the preachers of the Church, 
South, to a considerable extent, either retired with 
the Confederate army or quietly remained at home; so 
that the churches in many instances were left without 
pastors. JS'ow, the question will arise, Why did the 
preachers leave their flocks? The answer is this: The 
Federal army occupied the city of Nashville and a 
portion of Middle Tennessee before they took posses- 
sion of East Tennessee, and the Federal authorities 
arrested and sent off to prison a considerable number 
of the Methodist preachers in Nashville and its vicin- 
ity, against whom no charges or specifications were 
ever brought. This, as you might suppose, alarmed 
the preachers of the Church, South, as they had no 
fancy to rot in prison. There came into the country 
with the Federal army a number of preachers who be- 
longed to the Church, North, and finding the churches 



THE CHUIICII, NORTH AND SOUTH. 509 

without pastors, they proposed to take charge, saying 
it was all the same, that slavery would be done away 
Avith, and that, slavery being the bar to union, now 
the Churches would unite. This was no doubt often 
said in good faith, and in this way the people went 
over en masse in many places. In some instances the 
membership wished to wait and see how the war was 
going to terminate before they took any action. In 
such cases the preachers of the Church, North, called 
the military to their aid, and took possession b}^ force; 
and the preacher getting possession of the Church- 
books and records, enrolled them all upon his list, and 
counted them as so many members added to the 
Church, North — stating always that the Confederacy 
would be put down, and that the Church, South, would 
never be allowed to reorganize, and that those who 
wished to be Methodists would have to belong to the 
Church, North, as that was the only Church — that is, 
Methodist Church — that could survive. So matters 
moved on till the close of the war, when the preachers 
of the Church, South, began to look up their congre- 
gations, houses of worship, parsonages, etc. 

Now, you will find that the preachers of the Church, 
North, have taken a different position. They claim the 
proi;)erty that was held by the Church in common be- 
fore the division in 1844, because the deeds were made 
to the Methodist Episcopal Church. I will say, once 
for all, what right the Presbj^terian, Baptist, or any 
other Church, save the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
may have to the property of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, South, I cannot determine, as their right, 
if they have any, has never been tested; but the claim 
on the part of the Methodist Episcopal Church has 
been litigated and settled, and it is now part of the 



510 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

history and records of the United States, as well as the 
Church, that the Methodist Episcopal Church (North) 
has no right in law or equitj^; so that if all the mem- 
bers of the Church, South, were to die in one day, some 
other body would have to be found in whom the proj)- 
erty could vest. 

Where the Church, l^orth, holds property which has 
been obtained by the Church, South, since the division, 
and is deeded to that body, the Church, I^orth, claims 
the property on the ground that the Church, South, is 
a disloj^al Church, and has forfeited all right to prop- 
erty or protection. Let us admit, for the sake of argu- 
ment, that the Church, South, is disloyal, and has for- 
feited her right — to whom was she disloyal? To the 
Government of the "United States; and to that Govern- 
ment the forfeiture is made, and not to the Church, 
North; that Church is not yet the Government, and 
cannot claim on the score of disloyalty. But the fact 
is, as has already been shown, that the Church, South, 
is not disloyal, and, as a Church, never was; and such 
property as the United States authorities took posses- 
sion of during the war, as a military necessity, has long 
since been restored to her, and in many instances ap- 
propriations have been made for the repairing of inju- 
ries done to such property by the Government; though, 
I believe, in some instances where the members or 
friends of the Church, North, have been the agents to 
receive such appropriations, instead of paying them 
as intended by the Government, they have been turned 
over to the Church, North, to aid in building for that 
body. I think the time will come when this matter 
will be looked into. 

There is yet another aspect of this part of our sub- 
ject. The Church, North, has appropriated funds for 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 511 

Church-extension, and in some instances, I believe, the 
following course has been pursued: Preachers of that 
Church have sent agents through the country to look 
up old claims against Church-property, and no doubt 
often secured them at a heavy discount, and then 
brought suit, and obtained judgment and a decree to 
sell the property without the right of redemption; and 
the poor people worshiping in these churches, having 
been wasted by the war, found themselves unable to 
pay the amount of the judgment; and thus churches 
and school-buildings have passed into the hands of the 
Church, IsTorth, by a sham legal process. At other 
times a majority of the trustees of a church have gone 
over to the Church, North, and carried the church 
with them, when all know, who know anything about 
the law" of the Church, that a man has to be a member 
of the Church to make him eligible to the office of 
trustee, and when he ceases to be a member, his trust- 
eeship expires; so that a man cannot quit the Method- 
ist Episcopal Church, South, and still be a trustee. 
When a member leaves the Church he forfeits member- 
ship, trusteeship, and all right to control the property 
of the Church. And yet, after all, the Church, l^orth, 
holds the property of the Church, South; hut how, I 
will not say. 

But how do they hold on to the membership of the 
Church, South? And shall I tell it all? The preacher 
of the Church, North, announces that he has all the 
names of a certain society, and will consider them all 
members of the loyal Methodist Church unless there 
are some who wish to belong to the rebel Church — 
meaning the Church, South — stating at the same time 
that as a loyal man he will be compelled to make pub- 
lic the names of those who refuse to beloni"; to the 



512 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

loyal Church; that if the country has enemies in our 
midst the people ought to know it, and that those who 
withdraw will do so at their ow^n risk; while there are, 
no doubt, "lewd fellows of the baser sort" in almost 
every neighborhood, who do not care for any Church, 
but, being cowards at heart, wish to establish their 
bravery, and they consider it a safe opportunity to fall 
upon some old preacher or Church -member whose prin- 
ciples and religion are against fighting. Such sur- 
roundings are calculated to make men and women who 
love 23eace and quiet hesitate, and wait until these dif- 
ficulties are taken away. 

The ministers of the Church, North, who are filling 
the work in the Holston Conference are not generally 
men of mark — quite a number of them were local 
preachers before the war, belonging to the Church, 
South; some of whom, as I understand, had been anx- 
ious for some time to go into the itinerant work, but 
from some cause the Holston Conference did not find 
it convenient to employ them; but so soon as the 
Church, North, took possession of the country, the 
door was open to all, with such a salary as would of 
itself be tempting to a poor man struggling with mis- 
fortune, and some are uncharitable enough to give it 
as their opinion that the salary was the main induce- 
ment. 

From the best view that I have been able to take of 
the whole subject, I am decidedly of the opinion that 
the Church, North, has made a mistake. She is wast- 
ing her missionary funds, without adding to the great 
Methodist family either members or piety; for almost 
the entire membership now claimed in East Tennessee, 
or within the bounds of the Holston Conference, were 
members of the Church, South, and would have con- 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 513 

tinned so if they bad been let alone; and the conten- 
tion between the two Churches is taken hold of by the 
infidel world, and so used as to bring reproach on the 
cause of God and our common Methodism. If the 
Church, North, had used her treasure and labor in cul- 
tivating such fields as cannot be reached by the Church, 
South, the cause of God and the salvation of souls 
would have been the result; and I cannot but believe if 
the Missionary Board of the Church, North, fully under- 
stood the working of this measure, they would waste no 
more money in sending preachers down South to take, 
as by violence, the houses of worship and members of 
the Church, South. Let me say, that in my opinion 
there will be in the proceeding of the Church, North, 
in thus trying to cripple and break up the Church, 
South, nothing accumulating except disappointment, 
shame, and ultimate infamy; virtue, morality, and re- 
ligion will sustain loss and damage, and th^ Church, 
North, lose caste and character. The gospel is preached 
to but a small portion of the human race; and Jiere let 
me ask the ruling spirits of the Church, North, Why 
do you not turn your extra funds and labor to the 
waste places, of the earth, where a rich harvest of souls 
may be gathered in, God's name glorified, and Method- 
ism honored? 

The interest of the Church, South, is in the hearts 
of the Southern people, and the prosj^ects of the Church 
are this day more promising than ever before. She is 
being purified as by fire, and being made perfect 
through suffering. " Blessed are ye when men shall re- 
vile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of 
evil against you falsely for my sake. Eejoice and 
be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven." 
Seek peace, and pursue it. 



514 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

The preachers of the Northern Church — at least, some 
of them — say that the Southern delegates in the Gen- 
eral Conference procured the division of the Church by 
false pretenses; that the ministry and membership of 
the Church, South, were never consulted in the matter. 
Now, that the reader may understand this subject in all 
its phases, we will state a few facts, after having shown 
clearly where the division was begun, and bj^ whom. 

The necessity was created by the violent and unlaw- 
ful action of the Northern preachers in the course 
taken by them in the case of Bishop Andrew; and the}^ 
then recommended division as the best that could be 
done, and satisfied the Southern delegates of their sin- 
cerity b}^ offering to divide fairly — to give to the South- 
ern Conferences all their property, in churches, par- 
sonages, and school-houses, and agreeing to pay to the 
South a pro rata of the property of the Chartered Fund 
and Book Concern, and fixed on a line of division be- 
tween the two coordinate branches of the Church, al- 
lowing the membership about said line to adhere North 
or South, as they might desire. Now, reader, do not 
forget that these measures were taken by the Northern 
majority, the South being in such a minority that they 
could do nothing of themselves. 

Now, turn your attention to the part that the South 
was to act under the Plan which the North made for 
the South. The Southern delegates were to go home 
and submit the Plan to the Southern Conferences, and 
if they should approve it, the Plan would be perfected. 
It was submitted to all the Southern Conferences, and 
was approved. Every Conference took action ; and of 
the thousands of traveling preachers in the South, there 
were but three who were present and voting who voted 
against the Plan ; and the membership, to a very large 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 515 

extent, also took action, and with about the same una- 
nimity. So much, then, for the truthfulness of the state- 
ment we sometimes hear, that the Southern delegates 
in the General Conference of 1844 deceived their ISTorth- 
ern brethren, and pursued a course of conduct which 
the Church in the South never approved; nothing 
could be fiirther from the truth. 

The Church in the South approved the course pur- 
sued by their delegates, accepted the Plan of the GrQn- 
eral Conference, called a convention, and appointed 
delegates to meet in Louisville, in May, 1845. The 
convention met, organized the Southern Church, and 
appointed a General Conference to meet in Petersburg, 
Virginia, in May, 1846. Delegates were duly elected; 
the Conference met, and approved the Plan of the Gen- 
eral Conference and the action of the convention at 
Louisville; appointed Commissioners, who were au- 
thorized to settle with the Commissioners and Book 
Agents of the Church, North, the undivided interest in 
the Chartered Fund and Book Concern; and a Book 
Agent was also appointed, with authority to receive 
the portion due the South. Drs. Bascom, Latta, and 
myself, were appointed Commissioners, and Dr. John 
Early the Book Agent. 

A Fraternal Messenger was also appointed by the 
General Conference at Petersburg, in the person of Dr. 
Lovick Pierce, who was to attend the General Confer- 
ence of the Church, North, that was to meet in Pitts- 
burg, May, 1848; so that every thing that was required 
of the South by the Plan of Separation was done with 
precision, without haste, and without delay. The only 
thing we did that the Plan did not contemplate our 
doing was the appointing of a Fraternal Messenger. 
Dr. Lovick Pierce presented himself at Pittsburg on 



516 THE CHURCH, NOKTH AND SOUTH. 

the meeting of the General Conference of the Church, 
North, charged with the friendly greeting of the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church, South. I was there; I saw it 
all. Often, since, I could have wished that I had not 
been there, or that years would blot the fact from my 
memory; but it is as fresh on my mind as the transac- 
tions of yesterday; and similar sad feelings seem to 
come i^pon my heart now, which so deeply affected me 
when I saw the brotherly greetings and tokens of 
friendship, borne to them by the venerable man of God, 
contemptuously spurned and rejected. 

There are those of the Church, North, who contend 
that all the property of the Church, South, belongs to 
them, particularly that portion which was held by tho 
Church before the division. The ground of their claim 
is that a fixlse, unjust, and corrupt decision was given by 
the Supreme Court. The fact that the Church, South, 
brought suit against the Church, North, is generally 
known as an historical fact; but the circumstances that 
led the Church, South, to appeal to the courts of the 
country, I think, are not very well understood. That 
the reader may fully understand this subject, I will 
give a plain statement of the facts in the case. The 
Plan of Separation gave to the Church, South, her pro 
rata according to the number of preachers; and not- 
withstanding the Church, South, did precisely what the 
Plan of Separation required, and while the contract 
was plain and easily understood, yet the authorized 
agents of the Church, North, refused to pay over to the 
Church, South, her portion, and urged as a reason that 
the Restrictive Article was not removed. This was a 
matter over which the Church, South, had no control. 
The Southern Conferences voted en masse, or unani- 



THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 517 

mously, for the change, while enough in the North 
voted against it to defeat it. The Church, South, con- 
tended, in the first place, that there was no necessity 
for the change in the article, as no new object of ap- 
propriation was created; and, in the next place, that 
the Church, North, should not take advantage of their 
own act to protect themselves from paying an honest 
debt. But notwithstanding the Agents and Commis- 
sioners refused to pay over, the Church, South, sup- 
posed that the General Conference of the Church, 
North, which Avas to meet in Ma}^, 1848, in Pittsburg, 
would put the matter right; so the Commissioners of 
the Church, South, with Bishop Soule, Dr. Lovick 
Pierce, and Dr. Lee, of Virginia, together with our 
Book Agent, attended the General Conference of the 
Church, North, with a view to bring the whole ques- 
tion before that body. But the General Conference of 
the Church, North, would not hear or would not notice 
us in any official way whatever; they would neither 
talk with us nor suffer us to talk with them on the sub- 
ject, and even shut us out from their pulpits; so that 
diplomacy was at an end. 

We had organized as a Church under the authority 
of the General Conference of 1844; we were, according 
to the Plan, a coordinate branch of the original Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church; we had our Discipline, organi- 
zation, and appointments as a Church, all completed, 
and were in working order, with Bishoj) Soule at our 
head. They did not invite us back; they would not so 
much as recognize our Fraternal Messenger; while the 
Church, North, held all the property of the Book Con- 
cern and Chartered Fund. Men of the world laughed 
at us, and said, "You have had a Yankee trick played 
off on you, on a large scale; you were the principal 



518 THE CHURCH, NORTH AND SOUTH. 

contributors in building up the Book Concern and 
Chartered Fund, and now that these are paying institu- 
tions, they have persuaded you to set up for yourselves; 
then they created what they pretend is a difficulty in 
the way of paying to the Church, South, her portion; 
and, to make the matter sure, the Conference at Pitts- 
burg, in 1848, declared that the Conference of 1844 had 
no power to make the contract, or Plan of Separation." 
The condition of the Church, South, was a novel one: 
the Southern Conferences were off from the pay-roll, 
and the dividends were all going to the Church, I^orth, 
while the Southern Conferences had no dividends, no 
Book Concern or Chartered Fund, and no money to es- 
tablish any. To use the world's expression, we, down 
South, were left out in the cold. The Church, North, 
was in debt to us ; but it first refused to pay, then de- 
nied the binding obligations of the contract, and then 
fell out with us, and would have nothing to do with us, 
so that we were compelled to go to law. 

I believe that the members of the General Conference 
of 1844 acted, at the time they made out the Plan of 
Separation, in good faith; I think they then intended 
to do what they promised to do; yet I have been told 
that some of the members of the General Conference, 
who favored the measure and voted for it at the Gen- 
eral Conference, went home and voted and advised 
against it. A party was soon gotten up against the 
measure, and when the vote of the Annual Conferences 
failed by some eight or ten votes to remove the restric- 
tion, this party grew rapidly; so that by the time the 
Church, South, was in a condition to receive her por- 
tion, the pressure upon the Book Agent and the Com- 
missioners was so great that they refused to pa}^ over; 
and so matters remained till the meeting of the General 



manly's camp-meeting. 519 

Conference of the Church, North, in 1848, at which 
time and place the Commissioners of the Church, South, 
had reason to believe that something would be done. 

Every thing was against us, except law and equity. 
They had possession of the property; suit must be 
brought within the limits of their Church. They had 
the money, and, as we supposed, the power to get up 
outside j)ressure; but notwithstanding all the odds 
against us, we appealed to the law, and gained our 
rights. 

Now, reader, would you not suppose that if the South 
had attempted any thing like fraud, double-dealing, or 
false pretense, some of their Book Agents, Commis- 
sioners, lawyers, or wiseacres would have detected us? 
No, it was nothing but j^lain, simple justice that car- 
ried the suit in favor of the South. I was told by one 
of the leading men of the Northern Church that the 
property we were contending for was ours of right, 
and that he hoped we w^ould get it in the end; but as 
he believed that we were going to appropriate it to an 
unholy purpose — the support of a slavery Church — he 
would have nothing to do with handing it over to us; 
but that if we should wrest it from them by the power 
of the law he would be glad of it. And yet, in defi- 
ance of law^ justice^ equity^ and the decision of the Su- 
preme Court of the United States, they still claim the 
property ! i869. 



Manly's Camp-meeting. 

Having been kindly invited to attend the camp-meet- 
ing at Manly's, on Saturday, accompanied by the Kev. 
W. D. F. Sawrie, who knows all about a camp-meeting, 
and is at home alike in the pulpit and the altar, I started 



520 manly's camp-meeting. 

on the trip from ]S"a8hville. At two o'clock in the aft- 
ernoon we took our scats in the car, and soon heard 
the shout, "All aboard! " which closes half-finished con- 
versation, and brings on rapid shaking of hands be- 
tween parting friends. Away we were whirled toward 
the setting sun, till a little after ten o'clock at night, 
when the watchman cried out, "Paris!" and in a few 
moments we were in the hands of kind friends, who 
were waiting for our arrival, to conduct us to the resi- 
dence of our special friend, Col. Eay — the embodiment 
of hospitality — who, with his good lady, had waited 
beyond their usual hour of rest, that we might be re- 
freshed with a cup of hot coffee. 

Early next morning we found a hack in readiness to 
carry us to the camp-ground, and in little more than an 
hour the distance of eight miles had been overcome, 
and we were approaching the vicinity of the camp- 
ground. For the last few miles I had been much im- 
pressed with the scenes along the way, as we overtook 
men, women, and children, white and black, hastening 
like living streams toward one and the same point. 
All kinds of transportation had been employed — car- 
riages, hacks, buggies, carryalls, wagons, and carts, 
while many w^ere on horseback, and not a few on foot. 
Not a word was heard; but all were pressing onward 
to a common center, like the tribes of Israel going up 
to worship at the annual feast. The direction was made 
,plain by the throng in advance of us, though the straw 
scattered along the way would have been a sufficient 
guide to a stranger. 

The first thing that attracted attention, upon our ar- 
rival, was the encampment of the colored people, situ- 
ated within one hundred yards of the encampment of 
the white people, with the services alreadj^ goi"g on, 



manly's camp-meeting. 521 

although it was still early in the morning. I was 
pleased tolearn that the}^ have not been disturbed by 
divisions, nor misled by designing strangers, but are 
under the care of Brother Love, one of the Presiding 
Elders of the Memphis Colored Conference — an import- 
ant part of the work organized by Brother Taylor, in 
])reparation for a distinct Church, in sympathy with the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, South. They had located 
their camp-ground close to that of the white people, 
that they might enjoy the protection and assistance of 
their old masters, and I was glad to find that they were 
receiving a full benefit. 

Just beyond, and a little higher up the hill, was to 
be seen the old, time-honored Manly's Camp-ground. 
How familiar the scene — the multitude of vehicles and 
horses that crowded the grove, the smoke struggling 
through the branches of the trees, the tents and cook- 
sheds, some new and others old, and the freshly-riven 
boards used for roofs! How familiar the song which 
fell on my ear! while at that moment the sun, which 
had been obscured for days, struggled through the 
clouds and threw broad and cheering rays upon the 
encampment, dissipating at once all fears of inclement 
weather. It was interesting to observe how perfectly 
the customs and habits of other days have been pre- 
served. The Presiding Elder and preacher in charge 
met me just as they used to do, and led the way at once 
to the preachers' tent — the meeting-house having been 
assigned for their accommodation. There were the 
beds along the wall, underlaid with straw, and there 
were the saddle-bags and valises, the overcoats, and 
books, and pipes! 

It was not long before the Presiding Elder — a grave 
and dignified man — looked at his watch, and said to 



522 manly's camp-meeting. 

me, "I expect you to preach at the next hour." After 
awhile the trumpet blew the well-known signal for 
public service, and soon the great congregation, that 
had only partially dispersed, was closely packed under 
and around the shelter. When I inquired how the 
department of singing was sustained, I was told that 
all was right therein; that Brother Lilly, the prince 
of singers, was on hand, but that I must "line" the 
hymn. I looked over the vast assembly for familiar 
faces, and saw only two or three; however, the pres- 
ence of W. C. Johnson and S. P. Whitten made me feel 
at home. When the lines of the hymn had been read, 
a suitable tune was set, and the voices of the multi- 
tude, as the sound of many waters, rose and swelled 
upon the air and through the grove, so as to cheer the 
most drooping and sluggish spirit. During the rather 
long service the crowd pressed close and closer, and 
became so still and fixed that the congregation looked 
like a mighty tableau. 

When the hour for dinner came, there was, as at 
camp-meetings of old, the same long table, with the 
same long benches at its sides, and that wide-open in- 
vitation, as of yore, " Come and help yourselves! " The 
fare was abundant, substantial, good, and free. The 
order was excellent; there was no disturbing element 
of any kind to be seen. 

This was the first camp-ground established in the 
State west of the Tennessee Eiver, and for forty-jive 
years^ save two, the people of the neighborhood have 
here held camp-meetings, and one year two were held. 
It is estimated that not less than three thousand souls 
have here been converted to God, and of the number 
some twentj'-five or thirty have become ministers of 
Christ; so that i)rca(.'hcrs of the gospel have gone down 



manly's camp-meeting. 523 

from this hill-side, like the prophets of old from the 
sides of Mount Ephraim; besides, much seed has been 
sown here, which has sprung up and brought forth 
fruit in other regions. I believe I may say that hun- 
dreds of true and foithful ministers of Christ, now in 
heaven, have here stood upon Zion's walls, and sounded 
the alarm, and called the wanderer back to God; and 
while such names as Joshua Boucher and John M. Hol- 
land pass through my mind, and I remember that here 
they preached, and prayed, and praised, and labored for 
the souls of men who nowfold their stainless robes about 
them, and stand near the eternal throne while they cry, 
"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!" I feel 
that this is consecrated ground. From year to year, for 
forty years or more, the foot of Jacob's ladder has rested 
here, on which angels have descended and ascended, 
while hundreds who have passed beyond the vale, and 
now behold the King in his beauty, look back to this 
spot as the point where their feet first walked in the 
path which led them to glory. 

The first shelter built at this place has long since 
passed away. The leaden rain and iron hail of time 
beat it down, but it was soon replaced by another, and 
we are now worshijjing under the third or fourth 
structure. There are none of the original campers 
here now. They have, for the greater part, pitched 
their tents under the tree of life; but as one passes 
away another takes his place; and I am told that there 
are more campers this year than there have been for 
many years. AVhile the late terrible war raged around 
them, the good people of this neighborhood met from 
year to year, and held their camp-meeting, with the 
exception of one year; and the purpose to continue 
camping annually is stronger now than it was years 



524 CAMP-MEETING AT CEDAR HILL. 

ago, and, from all I can sec, it will be a camp-ground 
fifty years to come. Why are there some twelve hun- 
dred members in this circuit? It is because they con- 
stantly draw from this great plant-bed. 

Would not camp-meetings be a blessing to other por- 
tions of the Church? Why should we give them up? 
Let us see if we cannot have at least one camp-meeting 
for each District next year. I think wc can; and for 
one, will work for it. It is a blessing to both preacher 
and people. I have been here but a little over twenty- 
four hours, and the old camp-meeting spirit is already 
upon me. There is a life and power in the sermons 
which I have heard that is truly refreshing. Give us 
more camp-meetings! 

Three days of the meeting are now passed, and great 
good has already been done, and there is the promise 
of the very best results. 



Camp-meeting at Cedar Hill. 

I REACHED the camp-ground on Friday evening, and 
found the camjoers all in position, and every thing 
looked like former days. The preachers were quar- 
tered in the church, which was close at hand. The 
shelter was complete, the seats all arranged, the altar 
fenced oif, and the straw was distributed; the smoke 
was rising from cooking-sheds, tables were stretched 
along behind the camps, and the trum2)et — by which 
the signal was given for service — hung beside the pul- 
pit; there were the Bible and hymn-book lying on the 
hand-board — every thing was in its place, which was 
evidence to me that, notwithstanding some twenty 
years and more have passed away since there was a 



CAMP-xMEETING AT CEDAR HILL. 525 

camp-meeting in that section of the country, there 
were some persons yet living who knew how to pre- 
pare for such* meetings. The shelter and seats were 
an improvement upon the old style, the timbers being 
lighter, and the work was done in a more workman- 
like manner, which gave the whole arrangement an 
air of neatness and elegance. The shed would seat 
some three thousand persons, so it was said ; and some 
thirty or forty preachers could sit on the platform ele- 
vation of the pulpit, which formed three parts of a 
square, coming out even with the front of the pulpit. 
The preachers greatly admired this arrangement. 
From this elevation there were steps going down into 
the altar on both sides of the pulpit; and although 
this platform was in the rear of the main shed, yet it 
was under cover. Service was continued regularly at 
the hours of eight and eleven o'clock a.m., and three 
and seven o'clock p.m., and the trumpet never called the 
people together but there was evidence of good being- 
done. There were quite a number of ministers and 
pious laymen, who gave evidence that they came to do 
the work of the Lord. I never heard less idle talk and 
trifling conversation at any camp-meeting that I ever 
attended. There were six or seven regular camps; be- 
sides these, there were two cloth tents, and, in addition 
to these. Brother Cullom, the preacher in charge of 
Asbury Circuit, concluded that as a number of the 
people of his charge would likely attend the meeting, 
and that as none of his members wished to camp, he 
would have a camp himself; so a few days before the 
commencement of the meeting, he came up to Cedar 
Hill and obtained the use of an empty tobacco-ware- 
house, located some hundred steps from the camp- 
ground, and determined to move into it. The people 



526 CAMP-MEETING AT CEDAR HILL. 

of his charge finding out what the preacher was going 
to do, sent in supplies in abundance, so that a large 
number of persons were accommodated m this tobacco- 
house. I had the pleasure of going up and holding 
family-prayer with them one morning, and found about 
fift}^ persons all seated, and quietly waiting for prayer. 
Brother Plummer, the preacher in charge of the 
Clarksville Station, obtained a large cloth tent, where 
he accommodated himself and others, notwithstanding 
the fact that the Church in Clarksville had a large and 
well-sustained tent. There was one other tent that de- 
serves notice above all tlie rest. It was improvised 
on Saturday of the meeting, and it would be difficult 
to tell of what it was composed. It was partly of 
wagon-wheels, rails, poles, boards, brush, blankets, and 
straw — and, under the hands of a youth about sixteen 
years old and two widow women, it rapidly put itself 
in shape; for I do not think it was more than one hour 
after I saw a two-horse wagon drive up which con- 
tained the bedding and supplies, before the tent was 
up, a fire was kindled, a cofi'ee-pot on it, and the table 
was being set for supper. The party consisted of a 
grandmother, daughter, • and several grandchildren. 
The old lady told me that she and her daughter could 
have come and staid with some of the campers, but 
that they could not think of imposing the children on 
anybody; and that her object was the conversion of 
her grandson. The last sight I had of the old lady, she 
was sitting just at the edge of the altar, with tears in 
her eyes, holding her grandson's hat while he had gone 
to the mourner's bench. Eeader, do you not think you 
could camp? Some talk of the expense of camj^ing, 
and some of the exjDosure, and yet persons go to wa- 
tering-places, and lodge in miserable huts, and feed on 



NORTH ALABAMA CONFERENCE. 527 

scorched mutton and poor coffee, and play cards and 
dance till midnight; and pay for such privileges from 
three to five 'dollars per day. Now, if persons do all 
this for recreation, cannot Christian people go and 
camp at a camp-meeting for the good of souls and the 
glory of God? 

I left Cedar Hill Tuesday evening. Up to that time 
some thirty-five or forty persons had made a profes- 
sion; and as the interest was increasing every hour, I 
shall expect to hear a good account. 

I did not see a drunken man on the camp-ground, nor 
witness any act which I regarded as disorderly. There 
was, at eleven o'clock on Sunday, when some four 
thousand persons were emptied out of the cars at the 
same time, and more than half of them women, an ac- 
cumulated whisper, together with the motion of fans 
through the air, making a sound like a flock of birds, 
which prevented some from hearing; and the same 
was experienced at three, when the multitude were set- 
ting out for home. Let no extra trains run on Sunday 
hereafter. I saw nothing for sale, no trading going on. 
Every thing considered, it was the most orderly camp- 
meeting I ever attended, and the number of tenters 
will be greatly increased next year. 1873. 



North Alabama Conference. 

Having just returned from the session of the North 
Alabama Conference, let me give a brief sketch of 
what I saw and heard. 

My main object in visiting this Conference was to 
see my old friends and co-laborers of the Tennessee 
Conference who are now attached to the North Ala- 



528 NORTH ALABAMA CONFERENCE. 

bama Conference in consequence of the division of the 
former, to meet and enjoy the fellowship of the preach- 
ers and people generally; and I must say that I am 
greatly pleased with the result. 

It will be remembered that this Conference is com- 
posed of portions of three Conferences. The fractional 
parts no doubt felt their isolation, before they came to- 
gether, like one who has just left his ancestral home 
and is going out to settle in a new country; but when 
the fractions — the different members of this new house- 
hold — came together, and began to bring in their wares 
and tricks — tlieir various articles for housekeeping — 
they found that they were not only well-to-do, as an 
Irishman would say, but were really rich in numbers, 
churches, preachers, and literary institutions, and all 
that pertains to the outfit of an Annual Conference; 
and all the different parts came together as by a nat- 
ural affinity, and fitted like the stones in the temple, 
being all squared and numbered, and coming at once 
to their proper places, with a sufficient amount of 
brotherly love to cement all together. They were so 
happy, and so well pleased with themselves and every- 
body else, that they even treated Doctor Summers and 
myself with great kindness and attention. 

I observed one fact with great interest, which was 
this: I found in the members of the Conference per- 
sons suited to all the particular departments of an An- 
nual Conference — as though they had been brought up 
and drilled in a school of instruction for that very pur- 
pose. There was Doctor Wilson, with his assistant 
secretaries, going on with that department of the bus- 
iness with all the ease and grace of persons who had 
always been engaged in that kind of work; and there 
were the chairmen of the various committees, bring- 



NORTH ALABAMA CONFERENCE. 529 

ing in their reports in such perfect order and finish 
that one would be at once impressed with the idea that 
the}^ are the very men for the place; and when we 
came to the Mission Board, which was only two days 
old, the secretary brought in a report which would 
have done credit to a veteran in the business. When I 
saw every thing getting into position, and every man 
finding his place as by intuition, I could not but feel that 
the organization of this new Conference was in the 
order of the providence of God, and if its future should 
be equal to its present promise, great things may be 
expected of the North Alabama Conference. 

The appearance and ability of the members of the 
Conference impressed me very favorably: they are 
every way self-sustaining, and need not to draw on 
any other Conference for a supply in any department, 
and will, in my judgment, soon be able to give aid to 
weaker sisters. 

The citizens of Gadsden and the country round about 
took great interest in the business of the Conference, 
so that a large and fine church was crowded, and such 
was the spiritual status that souls were converted. 
The preaching was good, and the accommodations 
were fine. And here is an acknowledgment of obliga- 
tion to Brother and Sister Ramsey, who so handsomelj^ 
and kindly entertained the writer. 

Of the many good sermons that I heard, I shall men- 
tion but one — the sermon of Bishop Paine on vSunday 
morning more than sustained his great reputation as a 
preacher. It was powerful and glorious, and its influ- 
ence will be felt for many days. May his useful life 
long be preserved! 

The North Alabama Conference will be found among 
the foremost to sustain the regular institutions of the 



530 NORTH ALABAMA CONFERENCE. 

Church, which were represented by Doctor Summers, 
who accompanied me. What a pity it is that the Doc- 
tor could not be spared to visit more of the Annual 
Conferences ! I find him an institution of great power, 
but his place in the Publishing House cannot be sup- 
plied. 



^IsTECDOTES. 



Minor and the Hog. 

CAPTAIN MINOE, who is very well known to some 
of my readers, related to me the following cir- 
cumstance: 

"Once," said the Captain, "when I was commanding 
a barge, I left New Orleans with stores suflScient to last 
to Natchez, allowing the trip to be made in the ordi- 
nary time; but I encountered every kind of diflSculty ; 
several of my best men took sick, and I had to ad- 
vance against a strong head-wind a large portion of 
the time, and the consequence was that we ran short of 
supplies. 

"While in this condition we were lying to just above 
a large plantation of a noted wealthy Frenchman. At 
length a hog of good size and in fine condition came 
rooting around the bow of the boat, and as we were all 
hungry, and were not allowed to purchase any thing — 
for the boats from the Cumberhmd Eiver were all 
classed with the 'Kentuck' boats by the French — the 
temptation was more than we were able to bear, and 
one of the men took his rifle and shot it down, and 
brought it on board. 

"Soon after, the French gentleman, who lived some 
two or three hundred yards below, having heard the 
gun, and thinking, probably, that something was going 

(531) 



532 MINOR AND THE HOG. 

on that ought to be looked after, was seen coining shuf- 
fling along up the bank toward the barge. 

"I saw at once," continued the Captain, "that we 
should have trouble unless the case was well managed; 
for we were at the mercy of the Frenchman, because 
he could call up a hundred negroes in five minutes, and 
such was the character of the weather that we did not 
dare to throw off our cable — the crew being evidently 
alarmed." 

Here let me say to the reader, who may not have had 
the acquaintance of Captain Minor, that he was a very 
large man, and, while he possessed a full share of good 
humor, he could, when he wished to do so, put on as 
much dignity and gravity as any person I have ever 
met with, and withal was a man of remarkable intel- 
lect. 

'"Now, my men,' said I, 'do as I tell you, and I 
will try and outwit this Frenchman ; but you must be 
quick. Take that long, broad plank that we use as a 
table, and lay it across the boat; be quick. Now take 
the hog, and put it on the plank; turn it on its belly; 
stretch out its hind legs as far as you can; now, take 
the cleanest sheet you can find, and spread it all over 
it. Now sit down, every one of you, and look as solemn 
as death.' 

"It was done. By this time the Frenchman was get- 
ting up in the neighborhood of the barge. I arose, with 
my hands behind me, as my custom was, and moved 
toward the bow of the boat with a grave, sad, gloomy 
countenance. Just as the Frenchman was about to 
come on board, I addressed him as follows, in the most 
subdued and solemn manner: 'Friend, I ought to ask 
you, before you come on board, whether or not you 
have ever had the small -pox.' Then turning and point- 



THE PINEY-WOODS BROKER. 533 

ing to where the hog lay covered over with the sheet, 
I continued, mournfully, 'One of our poor fellows has 
just died with it, and as he was an old soldier, we have 
fired a single shot over him before committing his body 
to the wave.' 

'"What! you got de small-pocJcef By Gar, I no come 
dis nigh ! ' 

"Turning on his heel, he made his way home with 
double-quick, and no doubt passed a law of non -inter- 
course between his whole household and the infected 
barge. So the crew skinned, cooked, and ate with im- 
punity." 



The Piney-woods Broker. 

The piney-woods broker was a remarkable man in 
several respects. He kept his money for the use and 
benefit of the coal and tar burners. When any person 
wished to borrow, he never had any money; but he 
always had a little when a note was offered ; and it was 
a singular fiict that the amount of money he had on 
hand was always just half of what the note called for. 
Very sorry that he had no more; but if the holder of 
the note could do better with the money than with the 
note, he would take the note and run the risk; always 
some risk, and a man ought to be paid for taking risks; 
but, to accommodate the holder, he would take it, say- 
ing that money was at present very scarce, and almost 
any per cent, could be obtained for it that a man should 
ask ; but he would not think of cutting as deep as some 
people. 

This piney-woods broker was singular m another 
particular — he loved a dram ; but his money was al- 
ways so large that the doggery-man could not change 



534 THE PINEY-WOODS BROKER. 

it, and it was one of the broker's principles not to go in 
debt for liquor. So others bought, and he drank. At 
length, one morning, a keen wag, who was one of the 
tar-burners, seemed to be in deep distress about a dream 
he had the night previous, and continued to refuse to 
tell it until the whole party became very anxious to 
hear it. He agreed to tell the dream on condition that 
the broker would treat the crowd. The broker resisted 
for awhile, until at length, becoming anxious to hear it 
himself, he complied. The w^ag said that in his dream 
he was in one of the roughest forests he had ever seen. 
The trees were crooked, as if they had been torn by the 
wind; the ground sounded hollow, and was all heaved 
up into hills as large as old-fashioned bake-ovens. He 
saw in the distance things like human beings, flitting 
about spirit-like, but it was so smoky that he could not 
tell what they were until he came near them, when he 
saw that they were men, but as black as ink, with the 
whitest eyes and teeth he ever saw. Lying about were 
boxes, some six feet long and two feet wide. They 
knocked off the top of one of the little hills, and such 
boiling and smoking as he then saw exceeded any thing 
of the kind he had ever witnessed ; it foamed like soap- 
suds. Two of those frightful-looking men then took up 
a large kettle, that had handles, and dipped it into the 
boiling mass, and poured the material into one of the 
boxes. Not long afterward, the principal man came up, 
and said, "I reckon that fellow is cool enough by this 
time;" and they turned over the box, and out came a 
man. The overseer glanced at him quickly, and ex- 
claimed, "There, now, you have ruined everything! 
that was dog-metal, but perhaps he will do for some 
purpose." They set him up against a tree, and I knew 
him instantly. It was the broker here; and the first 



THE GIN-HOUSE MAN. 535 

thing he said was, "I have only money enough to pay 
you just one-half the price you have charged for mold- 
ing me." 



The Gin-house Man. 

I WENT to see an old gentleman once, and, unfortu- 
nately, asked him how he was. He told me that he was 
not at all well; and in order that I might know all 
about it, he proceeded to tell me the cause. He said he 
was a singular kind of man ; that he saw to every thing 
about the place, and that he went out some time pre- 
vious, to have his cotton-gin fixed up. "Now," said 
he, "I had the first cotton-gin that ever was put up in 
this country;" and then he told me who had the next 
one, and that his gin-house was put up after a certain 
fashion, and lasted until so many "gin-hoads," as he 
called them, had been worn out in it. He gave a full 
account of the different kinds of gins that he had tried, 
and a full history of a boy who had his fingers cut off 
in one of them, and the warning that he had from time 
to time given the ginner about the danger; but he 
would not mind him, and suffered the consequence. 
Then he told me a long story about a certain man who 
had circulated a falsehood about his taking toll, and 
why the man did it ; and he wrought himself into quite 
a rage over the injuries he had received from this per- 
son, some thirty years ago. But the old gin-house at 
last began to fall to pieces, and he took it down, and 
made as good a stable of the timbers as any one could 
wish to see, when another man would have thrown the 
logs away. He then went to work and built another 
gin-house, on an entirely different plan; and he was 
very particular in explaining the difference between 



536 THE DUTCIIxMAN ADAM. 

the two houses; and then he begun to put gin-heads 
into it, and ran them through as many editions as 
pumpkins in new ground, until the sills in that house 
began to give way. He made new sills, and gave a 
minute description of them; and some time before (I 
iiave forgotten the number of days, though he called 
his old lady to prove that important point) he stood on 
the cold ground, showing the boys how to put in the 
sills, and caught a slight cold, which had given him a 
touch of rheumatism; but he knew how to cure that, 
and was beginning to tell how, when dinner was an- 
nounced, and cut him off. 

After dinner I got into such a hurry that I could not 
hear any more. I think I sat for two long hours, and 
allowed him to bore me, repl3nng, "To be sure! " "Is it 
possible?" when the whole story could have been con- 
densed into a few moments. 



The Dutchman Adam. 

Some years ago, when I was boarding in a hotel in 
Columbus, Ohio, the servant that had been at my back 
for weeks, during meals, w^as a Dutchman and a very 
attentive servant. At length one day I said to him, 
"My good fellow, you have been waiting on me now for 
several weeks, and I have not yet found out your name." 
He put his lips close to my ear, as though he were go- 
ing to tell me a great secret, and said, "My name ish 
Adam." Said I, "That is a beautiful name; it is the 
name the Lord gave to the first man he ever made." 
He seemed to be delighted that I should be acquainted 
with his people, and said, "Dat man was my farder's 
forder." A gentleman immediately to my left, who 



JIM AND HIS MASTER. 537 

heard the conversation, became so much amused that 
he laughed at such a rate as to annoy his wife, who sat 
beside him, but did not hear the conversation. She 
shook him and punched him, and repeatedly asked him 
what was the matter with him. He attempted to tell 
her, but before she could understand him he became so 
overpowered with laughter as to burst out again. At 
length, when he was able to tell her what the Dutch- 
man said, she said she knew better — that the fellow had 
better sense than that. So when the Dutchman re- 
turned, I asked him, "Are you not mistaken about old 
Adam, the first man ever made, being your father's 
father? " ^^No,'' said he, "7 ish not mistake; my farder ish 
very old man; my farder' s fat'der ish very older man still; it 
ish my fardefs farder^ and you hear of him!'' And the 
lady also laughed so much that I think she could not 
swallow for fifteen minutes. 



Jim and his Master. 

An old Baptist preacher had a bo}^ named Jim, who 
was a Methodist preacher. The old master and Jim 
had a great many arguments on doctrinal points; and 
Jim, either because he was the ablest disputant or had 
the best side of the subject, generally vanquished his 
master. The old gentleman and Jim were in the habit 
of having their appointments on Sundays, the "old 
master" for his Baptist friends, and Jim for the Meth- 
odist negroes. On a certain Sunday, the old master, 
having been worried a little by Jim's arguments during 
the week, determined that Jim should go and hear him 
preach, instead of attending to his own appointments; 
for Jim had appointments for the day, as well as his 
23* 



538 JIM AND HIS MASTER. 

master. So they set out together; and Jim had to hear 
his old master three times, morning, afternoon, and 
night. The old man poured it down on Jim, like hot 
shot, and poor Jim had no chance to say a word in re- 
ply. The day's work was over at last, and the master 
and Jim were trudging home in the dark, both on foot, 
Jim walking close behind his master; for they were 
good friends, notwithstanding they had hard arguments 
sometimes. At length the old master said: 

"Jim, it is a singular fact that when I left home this 
morning I was very sick, and, although I have preached 
three times to-day, I now feel pretty well." 

"l!^o wonder dat you feel better," said Jim, "a'ter 
dischargin' so much trash from your stomach as you 
hab to-day!" 



FisHiisra. 



Fins and Scales — A Lecture. 

THE subject involves three points : Fish, Fishermen, 
and Fishing ; and I promise not to do either of two 
things — I shall not tell all I know about fishing, and I 
shall tell some things that I do not know about it. So 
you see I am not going to follow exactly the text fur- 
nished me. 

Fish is probably the largest portion of the supj)lies 
God has furnished for the subsistence of mankind. 
The amount of fish consumed by the human family 
exceeds the amount of all other supplies put together. 

With regard to the views taken by those who have 
written upon the subject of fishing, particularly upon 
the subject of angling, not one of them explains the 
best mode for that amusement in the great Valley 
of the Mississippi — I might say in the United States. 
These works arc written by Englishmen, and in Eng- 
land the fish are generally "surface" feeders, while 
in this country they are generally "bottom" feeders; 
and instructions for taking the one kind are of no 
service in angling for the other. In the next f)lace, 
those who have written upon the subject have mainly 
taken their fish from oceans and estuaries, and their 
instructions do not apply to fishing in Western waters. 

The cat-fish is uniformly repudiated, and uniformly 

(539) 



540 FINS AND SCALES — A LECTURE. 

eaten. He is everywhere condemned, and always 
praised w^hen he comes to the table; he is found in 
nearly every stream, lake, pond, and river where fish 
are found; is not at all nice about what is set before 
him, but eats it and asks no questions; he bites freely 
and decidedly; pulls earnestly and with a purpose. 
There is a great mistake made by many with regard to 
this fish: they say, "Give me a cat weighing about 
three or four pounds, but when they get large they be- 
come tough." This is a mistake. The buffalo, drum, 
and a good many other semi-hard-mouth fish, become 
tough as they get old, but the cat does not — he is good 
at any size from one to one hundred and fifty pounds. 

The next most abundant fish with us is the buffalo. 
He has a heavy scale, and consequently can be pre- 
served a considerable length of time without becoming 
tainted. There is a secretion between this fish's scales 
and skin, which, unless it is removed, is sure to be dis- 
tributed through the flesh, causing it to become bitter. 
This fish is very abundant, particularly in the waters 
of the Mississippi and Alabama. 

It has long been a question whether the drum be- 
longs to the game or the soft-mouth fish. It is infe- 
rior. I believe the people up in Kentucky deceive 
folks b}^ calling this fish perch. 

Kext to the drum, in abundance, is probably the 
sucker tribe, consisting of the large white, and the 
blue, suckers; the yellow, and the red, horse. These 
are all of the same genus, and are a valuable fish, but 
are too bony to be eaten without great care. 

Among the game fish there is a great variety of sal- 
mon. We have the fresh-water salmon, which some- 
times weighs three or four pounds; but there is a 
difference between these and the pure eastern salmon 



FINS AND SCALES — A LECTURE. 541 

in the waters of the Gulf. Among the fish belonging 
to the salmon tribe is the pike — a species of pickerel. 
They are fine swimmers, bold biters, fierce fighters, and 
hard to take; yet when taken, are exceedingly rich 
and valuable, both as a pan and boiling fish. 

We have a fish peculiar to our waters that we call 
the jack-fish. They are placed at the head of the list 
as game fish. I have seen them weighing as high as 
twenty-three pounds. They are very much the shaj^e 
of the salmon, but not as long, and their sides are a 
little drooping. How they came to this country we do 
not know; but they are rapidly increasing, while other 
fish are diminishing; the perch are disappearing, espe- 
cially in the Cumberland River; the trout, the drum, 
and the buffalo, are all in a great degree diminishing. 

The next fish in point of value is what is called the 
black trout. It inhabits, mainly, running streams as 
large as the Cumberland. They are exceedingly bold, 
and generally put the angler to his best to land them. 
They grow sometimes to eight or ten pounds. I never 
saw one weigh more than eleven and a half pounds. 
This fish is very valuable, and exceedingly desirable 
for table use. 

Next in order is what the boys call the pond trout. 
They grow very large, and the meat is exceedingly del- 
icate and fine. They die gently, and do not contend 
so long, or furnish such an amount of sport to the 
angler, as the pure black trout. 

Next is the buck trout, with what we call a silver 
color, which is generally found in small streams. 
Then comes the white perch, which I think is destined 
to become a very popular and numerous fish. 

Bishop Soule was a great fisherman. At one time 
Bishop Andrew was talking with him on the subject, 



542 TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 

and wanted to know why he was so fond of fishing, to 
which Bishop Soule replied that it was because of the 
excitement. "But," said Bishop Andrew, "sometimes 
you are not successful — do you find it exciting then?" 
"Of course I do," replied Bishop Soule. "Even when 
you do not get a bite?" "Yes." "Wh}^, what can 
there be so exciting about it then?" asked Bishop An- 
drew. "Why, sir, it's exciting because I'm expecting 
a bite every minute!" replied Bishop Soule. 

A fisherman's outfit costs from seventy-five cents up 
to seventy-five dollars. The best rod is an ordinary 
cane growing around upon the river-bottoms. It 
should be well seasoned, light, and nicely tapered. 
Joint rods are not to be compared with whole ones, be- 
ing far inferior. The best line you can get is known 
in France as "cable-line," made of silk. I would ad- 
vise you to get a snood; they cost about a cent apiece, 
and are generally about a foot in length. The best 
sinker you can have is an ordinary buck-shot, split in 
the center, the line put in the cut and the shot pressed 
together again to hold its place on the line. Never 
buy a float, but get an ordinary cork and trim it into 
suitable shape. If you use a reel (and I should advise 
you to use one), get the Meek-reel, which costs from 
twelve to twenty dollars; one will last you for years. 
E'ever go fishing with an unsharpened pole, for it is 
difficult to stick in the bank; and to keep a pole in 
your hands all the time, is very tiresome. 



Treasures of Big Bottom. 

We all went — F., and Gr., and L., and M., and W.; 

and besides these, were Kobin, the cook; and Ed., the 



TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 543 

assistant; and P. and H. followed and joined us a few 
days afterward. 

It was a beautiful Monday morning late in October, 
and all were at the depot of the ISTorth western Eail- 
road in good time. 

The outfit of an angling party, with a little dash of 
the hunter mixed in, is worthy of notice. The first 
concern was about the tent — is that in good condition 
and in place? next, the minnow-seines — they are both 
here, well rigged and ready for use. How many min- 
now-buckets have we in all? Fourteen, all sound, and 
with proper fastenings. Three sides of bacon, corn- 
meal, flour, salt, coffee, sugar, butter, cakes, bread, 
cooking utensils, ax, hatchet, nails, saw, rope, twine, 
red pepper, sauce, chow-chow, vinegar; no whisky, no 
brandy — not a drop of it! while our medicine-box con- 
tained but one box of Cook's pills. 

As to individual or personal outfits, no one man can 
furnish a full list. The Avading-boots, fish-buckets, 
rods, reels, shawls, blankets, guns, bird-bags, powder, 
shot, boxes and bundles, together with two dogs and 
their chains and collars; yet every man knew his own 
property, so that there was neither trouble nor confu- 
sion. And as our trij) was for ten days at least, and 
possibly longer, the outfit was rather extensive. 

For our Si:)ecial accommodation the general agent of 
the railroad had a passenger car attached to a freight 
train, with a letter of instruction to agents and con- 
ductors to let us off and take us on at our discretion 
(he ought to have had a fish); and the conductors were 
kind, gentlemanly, and accommodating, and in the 
name of the party I make this acknowledgment. 

In addition to what has already been mentioned, Ed., 
our assistant cook, had a gun — a primitive, single-bar- 



544 TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 

reled shot-gun, which M. contended was ii musket, but 
Ed. insisted that it was a shot-gun, and the contro- 
versy remains unsettled to this day. Ed. said that it 
mout have been a musket in the beginning, but had 
turned into a shot-gun. Whatever it was, or was in- 
tended for, there was one thing it would not do, and 
that was shoot Ed. was trying from time to time to 
make it go off, but fire it would not. Some one of the 
party took advantage of Ed.'s absence and put a match 
to it, and it banged away with commendable noisi- 
ness. This was unknown to Ed., and when we had 
left the cars and were on the wagons, wherever game 
was seen, Ed. w^ould be among the first of the hunters 
out, snapping away with terrible earnestness, not 
knowing that his gun was empty, and he spent no 
little time in trying to insert fresh powder at the touch- 
hole. I asked him, at length, what he thought was the 
matter with the gun; Ed. said that he believed she 
was choked. I told him he would have to strike her 
in the back, or give her snuff until she sneezed; but 
poor Ed. said she would not sneeze nor do any thing 
else. At length, from the mere force of habit, he blew 
into the muzzle, and to his great surprise he found his 
gun was empty; and being confident that he had put 
a load into her, and not knowing how it got out, he 
changed his views entirely, and said that the touch- 
hole was so large that the load all wasted out through 
it, or else he had shot it all away, just a little at a time, 
and did not know it. He loaded up again, but never 
got that load out until he laid her on a log and struck 
the hammer with a rock, when she fired with a venge- 
ance, jumping about one foot high and several feet 
backward, and turned over on her side, looking quite 
exhausted. But it was found that either from the 



TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 545 

effort to shoot or the bcjiting from the rock, the main- 
spring of the lock was broken. Ed. was now in deep 
distress, and asked M. — whom he knew to be a dealer 
in hardware — which would be the cheaper, to get the 
main -spring mended or buy a new one. G. told him 
that the whole establishment was not worth more than 
fifty cents; that it could only be sold as old iron, and 
l)oor iron at that. So much for Ed.'s outfit. 

But back to our narrative. At the blowing of the 
whistle at seven o'clock a.m. we were all in readiness, 
and off we Avent toward the setting sun. When about 
thirty miles from the city, two of the freight cars be- 
came contrary, threw themselves across the track, and 
had to be removed before we could go on again ; but the 
party took the delay easy — some hunted birds and 
squirrels, others grapes, and all took a hand in chang- 
ing freight, and in a few hours we were whirling on 
again at the rate of eighteen miles to the hour, reach- 
ing the point where we were to leave the cars a little 
after sunset. Mr. B., with whom we stopped, was 
looking for us, and received us with all the kindness of 
Abraham of old. Here we were handsomely enter- 
tained, and on the next morning men, seines, and buck- 
ets were all at the creek at an early hour, for here the 
minnows had to be caught. By eleven o'clock the 
buckets were filled, and having stored our baggage 
away in the wagons, and eaten an excellent dinner 
prepared by Mrs. B., we were soon under way to Big 
Bottom — and Big Bottom it is! The river-line of this 
bottom I suppose is twenty-five or thirty miles, while 
the back-line is about ten miles, being somewhat in the 
form of a crescent. The point selected for our camp 
was about midway the water-line, and within one mile 
of the mouth of Duck Kivcr. We reached the spot at 



546 TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 

about four o'clock p.m., all safe, nothing broken, and 
the minnows, generally alive, were soon enjoying a 
bath in the river. The tent was pitched, a fire built, 
and Robin went to work at his peculiar trade; while 
Gr. improvised a pretty good table out of such mate- 
rials as he could gather up. After supper we rigged 
a few lines and cast them into the stream, that we 
might have fish for breakfast; and soon W. — who is 
sure to catch a fish if there is one in the neighbor- 
hood — lands a gray cat-fish of about fifteen pounds 
weight, which was handed over to Robin, who knew 
how to make steak of it, and w^hen set before us brown 
and smoking, all prejudice against a cat-fish gave way, 
and we fared sumptuously. 

A farther notice of Big Bottom will likely be called 
for. Well, here it is. It is formed by Duck and Ten- 
nessee rivers on one side, and the ridges extending 
from Waverley and Johnsonville on the other. It is 
from twenty to thirty miles in length, and from two to 
five miles in width. It is overflowed by the waters of 
the Duck and the Tennessee rivers; so that when 
either of these streams is high, the whole of this 
country is under water, and no ^^erson can live in 
the Big Bottom at any point. Consequently, those 
who own or cultivate these lands all live back in the 
barrens, or hill country. The land is immensely rich, 
the trees sre thick and of tremendous growth, and the 
greater portion of them splendid timber. I was in one 
field of corn planted in July and never plowed after 
planting, and yet the crop seemed to be a good one; 
but being in danger of frost, the owner was gathering 
it to feed stock. There are a number of lakes in this 
bottom. We visited three of them — Clear Lake, Lake 
Design, and Cypress Lake, and fished in two of them. 



TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 547 

Of the three. Clear Lake is the most worthy of notice: 
it is about two miles from Duck Eiver and one mile 
from Tennessee River, and is the ancient bed of one or 
the other of these rivers, no one knows which. It is 
far away from human habitation, and is not honored 
with even a path leading to it; its length is about one 
mile, while tlie width is not more than one hundred 
3'ards; it is surrounded b}^ old trees of the largest size. 
The depth of the water is about fourteen feet, with a 
firm bottom; its shores are free from undergrowth; 
the water is clear as crystal — clearer I never saw, un- 
less it w^as the waters of Lake Huron. This lake is a 
thing of perfect beauty; there it sleeps in the wildold 
forest, as calm as an infant. Its waters are not only 
clear, but sweet. A small stream flows from it, but 
none empty into it, which is evidence that it is sup- 
plied by springs. The waters of this lake, at the time 
I saw it, were some twenty-five feet above those of 
the Tennessee and Duck rivers. From the growth 
of the timber upon its shores, I should judge this lake 
to be very old. It is abundantly supplied with fish, 
mainly of the game species; but I saw some drum, 
buffalo, cat-fish, gar, or grindle^ and a few blood-suck- 
ers. The prevailing varieties, however, are pike, or 
pickerel, trout, and white and speckled perch ; and they 
seem to be without number. The people in the neigh- 
borhood all told us that the fish in Clear Lake would 
not bite. This I was slow to believe; and on trying, 
soon found that it was a mistake, but that they could 
not be taken from the main-land in consequence of the 
moss that lines the shore, and extends out some thirty 
feet into the water. I could get strikes, and hang the 
fish, but they would become entangled in the moss, so 
that I would not only lose the fish, but part of my lino 



548 TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOM. 

also; 80 we had a boat transferred from Tennessee 
Eiver to the lake, which proved a success; and I have 
no doubt the fact that our party caught fish in this 
lake will be the cause of many persons spending much 
time and labor for naught; for with a boat, fish can 
only be taken by the very perfection of the angler's 
skill. The line must be delicate and invisible, and 
you must fish near the bottom, and that at a consider- 
able distance from the boat, preserving perfect still- 
ness; but with a suitable outfit and proper care and 
attention, the success will be surprising. G. and W. 
fished a few hours one day in the boat, and the result 
was forty game fish. 

Lake Design is smaller and not so deep, and, though 
a little dingy, can be fished from the shore successfully. 
We visited it one day, and caught a quantity of fine 
fish. When fishing in this lake we came together at 
noon for lunch; but before leaving, F. set out a hook 
near the lap of an old tree that had fallen into the 
lake; and while he was absent a monster fish took pos- 
session. When F. returned he tried to bring it out, 
but could not; the fish went where it pleased, only it 
was not able to part his line. At length it took refuge 
in a lot of brush, became sullen, and would not go out 
again to open sea. W. being on the same side of the 
lake with F., came to his assistance. F. said to him, 
"Here, take this pole, hold it hard, and I will go in 
after that fish!" and in he went, and down he went, 
and grappled the monster, but not being able to tell 
precisely where the fish lay, he unfortunately got his 
hand into its mouth, and finding that it was armed 
with terrible teeth, and disposed to use them, he 
changed the point of attack, and eventually brought 
the monster to land. G., who was on the opposite side 



TREASURES OF BIG BOTTOxM. 549 

of the lake, said he thought F. had caught the daddy 
of the trout tribe. The fish weighed about fifteen 
pounds, and gave evidence of great strength. The 
trouble with F. and W. was to determine what kind of 
fish it was. They first came to the conclusion that it 
was a white cat-fish, but the scales and teeth offset that 
idea; they next judged it to be a lake jack-fish, but 
neither head nor tail would suit; they then settled 
down on the idea that it was a monster — a cross of the 
cat-fish, or jack, or pike, or gar. At length M. came 
along, and pronounced it a scaly cat, or grindle, and 
not good for food. Soon after, W. caught one of the 
same family. When we knocked off we had as many fish 
as we could carry, and left the monsters to fight it out 
with the raccoons. On reaching camp, Eobin lamented 
the loss of these fish; he said they Avere excellent eat- 
ing, and next morning employed a camp-pauper to go 
and bring them in; and was delighted to find them 
both alive. They are well supplied with fins, and, I 
should judge, good swimmers; and being armed with 
teeth, must be a terror to all small-fry. L. said he 
would pay the expense of a wood-cut representing W. 
holding the rod, and F. in the lake fighting the terri- 
ble monster, but we have not been able to supply it. 

Sunday was approaching, so on Saturday evening the 
fishing-tackle was all brought to camp, the guns laid 
aside, and the best preparation that our circumstances 
would permit made for a proper observance of that 
sacred day. G., W., M., and H., went into the neigh- 
borhood to church. W. opened the Sunday-school at 
nine o'clock a.m., and at eleven o'clock G-. preached to 
a very large, well-behaved, and devotional congrega- 
tion. The church is a large one for the country, well 
built, and finished in good taste. The singing was in- 



550 TREASURES OP BIG BOTTOM. 

spiring, and the entire service, I trust, profitable. 
Immediately after the morning service was over, bas- 
kets of provisions were disj)layed in great profusion, 
and all were invited to lunch. At two o'clock G. ad- 
dressed the Sunday-school, which is very large and 
well conducted. It was a day of spiritual comfort to 
many. Any person going from Big Bottom to this 
church, and not knowing the facts as they are, will be 
taken by surprise. As soon as you have emerged from 
the deepest, darkest wilderness, you are in the pres- 
ence of a multitude of well-dressed, good-looking 
Christian people, with an imposing house of worship, 
with all the appointments of an old and wealthy 
country. 

But the reader will want to know how the party 
succeeded. I think I may say that, with the exception 
of the bird-shooting, it was a perfect success. The 
open or cultivated lands that were in reach of our 
camp were so loaded with vegetation as to put bird- 
shooting out of the question ; we could hear the whistle 
of the birds, but that was all. Big Bottom is supplied 
with all kinds of game common to this country, except 
the opossum — they are not to be found. Deer, turkeys, 
ducks, squirrels, and raccoons, are in abundance, and 
fish in all the waters, while the banks of Clear Lake 
are bored and perforated by the beaver. 

Some of our fish died on the string; some were de- 
voured by water animals or raccoons, several bark cat- 
fish chewed into their cables. We ate fish for ten days, 
and in this had some assistance from the neighbors; 
some spoiled because of the warmth of the weather; 
and yet we brought home from fifty to one hundred 
pounds of choice fish. As to the hunting, I think at 
least one hundred squirrels were killed, a few birds. 



ON BUFFALO CREEK. 551 

and one raccoon. The largest cat-fish caught weighed 
about thirt}^ pounds; the largest jack-fish was thirty- 
nine inches in length, and twenty-two pounds in weight; 
the largest trout eight j^ounds. We caught cat, jack, 
pike, trout, drum, rock -bass, white perch, speckled 
joerch, grindle eels, and gars. 

We broke camp after breakfast, and took tea the same 
day with our friends at home. All well; no accident; 
no one got sick; no one got out of temper. Those who 
were complaining when we left returned well, all thank- 
ful to kind Providence for health, spirits, recreation, 
and renewed strength for future labor. 



On Buffalo Creek. 

The nights were dark, and all the signs were right, 

With reel and rod the angler's skill to try. 

And G. now eager and impatient grew; 

While deep-blue pools, with gently-sloping banks, 

Passed through his mind, enkindling strong desires. 

With Meek's best clicking reel and baited hook. 

To cast his line into some limpid stream; 

And others soon the inspiration caught. 

And F., and P., and M,, gave in their names 

As parties to the contemplated trip. 

Be ready! was the word, with all your tools — 

Buckets, with lines and seine, rods, reels, and hooks. 

We came together as the evening train 

Was starting on its nightly noisy tramp 

Unto the western home of closing day. 

But ere the night grew faint with hoary age, 

The whistle blew, the iron wheels stood still; 

And Waverley was now the watchman's cry ; 

When every man unto his baggage flew, 

And out went buckets, satchels, rods, and shawls. 



552 ON BUFFALO CREEK. 

Together piled within friend Spicer's hall, 
To wait until another day's return. 

The morning dawned at last, both fresh and fair; 
And soon all hands were out, with wading-boots 
And minnow-seine, our buckets to supply 
With silver-sides and steel-backs of good size. 
Yet twelve miles distant lay our destined point; 
And transportation now must be procured. 
A wagon soon was found — such as it was — 
It had no bed save, where the bed should be. 
Some old loose planks, with others at the sides, 
While both the ends were out and open wide. 
Upon this floor our baggage was piled up, 
And each man in his place was stowed away. 
Our team was badly matched in age and size; 
But driver, team, and all were found good pluck. 
Just as the shades of night were drawing near, 
Before friend Foulkes's gate we called a halt, 
And soon a generous, kind reception met, 
And passed the night away in rest and sleep. 
Soon as the morning came the sport began. 
While shoals and shallows lay on either hand, 
Yet just in front were waters deep and wide, 
And under foot a gently-sloping bar; 
W^hile just across the stream, in bold relief, 
There stood a grand old bluff of ancient birth. 
Whose granite brow was in the misty cloud; 
There with uncovered breast alone it stood, 
Bathing its giant feet in the clear flood. 
And now with eager hands we went to work 
To see who first should cast a baited hook 
In the most favored spot — the eddy's eye. 
Our rods were metal-shod, with tapered points, 
And soon were set along the pebbly shore; 
But G. was ready first to cast his line; 
The rod was set, the pressure off the reel; 
Out flew the shining bait upon the stream. 
But soon it sank to sightless depths below% 



ON BUFFALO CREEK. 553 

Where jack and trout had made a settlement. 

But ere the work of setting rods was done, 

The shout was heard, "G., Gr. ! your reel, your reel!" 

All must admit that music has its charms. 

Composed of mingled sounds that please the ear. 

And thrill along the nerves in such a way 

As best to wake emotions of pure joy. 

Talk as you may of the soft evening breeze 

That whispers through enchanted groves of love, 

Or the wild storm in yonder mountain-gorge. 

That rends the rocks till granite showers fall; 

Then listen to old ocean's frightful roar 

Amid the storm along the rock-bound coast. 

Or the deep moan of midnight's sighing winds 

Mid solemn forests of old stately pines; 

Then walk through shady groves of trees and shrubs, 

Where busy bees drink nectar from each bloom, 

And butterflies are waltzing to their hum; 

Then turn and listen to the reaper's song, 

When from his toil at evening he returns, 

AVhile parent birds are calling home their young. 

Now from the fields of nature turn away: 

Go to that dark and ancient Gothic pile, 

And grope your way along its dusty aisles, 

Pull off your hat, and open wide your ears. 

And listen to the deep-toned organ's wail, 

While to its notes all things in cadence move. 

And human voices mingle in the sound; 

And when the day is past, with all its cares, 

Then hearken to the minstrel's evening hymn, 

When viol and lute, uniting with the voice. 

Make melody complete, and cheer the heart; 

But yet there is a sound surpassing all, 

Which thou hast yet to hear to feel the power — 

It is the clicking of the angler's reel. 

When trout or jack doth draw the silken cord. 

G., as you might suppose, was at his post. 

Guarding his line that it might easy flow. 

24 



554 ON BUFFALO CREEK. 

"It's had it long enough, I think," said one, 

"It is a jack," said G. ; "it must have time; 
I want to make sure work, and land it safe; 
But now I '11 strike," he said; and strike he did, 
And caught it, too — a noble fish it was, 

" He 's got him ! " was the shout ; " do n't let him go ! 
Hold it ! hold it ! see how it bends the pole ! " 

" Just bring it here," said F,, "I '11 land it safe." 
G. reeled it up at last within full view, 
And with pure angling skill F. brought it to. 
It was a jack, full thirty inches long, 
With shining rows of pure, white glistening teeth, 
And brilliant eyes and scales like polished gold. 

"Well, that was grand," said P., "and no mistake." 
After this feat the sport more general grew; 
Fish after fish was safely brought to land, 
And strung and moored along the shady shore. 
But M, struck oft, and failed to hook his fish ; 
When G,, the senior Walton of the crowd, 
To try his luck, resolved on M.'s relief. 
With rod in hand he quickly turned the reel; 

"I'll tempt that jack to bite, without a doubt. 
And let you see what skill and art can do; 
It will not take the bait, I fear," said he; 

" But jacks must have their time; so I will wait." 
At length it bit again, and took off line. 

" It 's had it long enough, 1 tliink," said G. ; 

" I '11 strike it now." He struck, and hung it fast, 
And reeled it up, and high above the stream, 
Suspended in the air, was to be seen 
A water-dog about ten inches long. 

" Well, that was done in first-rate style," said M. ; 

" Huzza for G., I say, and science, too ! " 

"And now," said P., "I'll try the other side," 
To the canoe he went, and paddled o'er, 
And when about to step upon the bank. 
The light boat gave a lurch, and in he went, 
And downward sank unto the bottom soft; 



ON BUFFALO CREEK. 555 

But with a bound that made the water boil, 
And quick as thought, he was upon the land. 
F. had his troubles, too; in throwing out 
He would a circle make, and throw too high, 
And hang his line upon the limbs of trees. 
" I 'm in a fix," said he ; " I 've hung my line 
Across the stream ; my hook is in the brink, 
While I am here, and something at my hook." 
•* Why do n't you jerk ? " said Gr. " For what ? " said F. ; 
" There is no use ; can I jerk down a tree ? " 
The day was now far spent; the sport was fine; 
Our plans for next day's work were quickly made. 
The second day was spent much as the first, 
And at its close we made our plans to move 
Some two miles lower down the lake to try. 

Let Fancy go to work, and do its best 
To form a spot to fill the angler's eye; 
Make bluffs and bars, with blue deep holes to suit ; 
Add shoals and rocks ; put every thing in shape, 
Just as you like, with all the parts complete — 
And yet this spot will far surpass it all ; 
In length, and breadth, and depth, it was all right. 
The shore was dry, the bottom free from snags. 
Our rods were set, our lines were soon cast out. 
The reels began to whiz, the poles to bend. 
And more than one were quickly snatched away 
By master fish, and were by boat pursued; 
But night was coming on — and who could quit ? 
Friend Foulkes his wagon sent a sheet to bring. 
And soon it came, and rose into a tent. 
And with it skillet, salt, and frying-pan. 
And coffee-pot, and good old bacon-side ; 
And now, with savory jack and trout well fried, 
We had a feast such as a king might like. 
M. thought to rest his hook and air himself; 
He'd take his gun and try the squirrels now. 
On his return, when he made his report. 
We found, in less than one short, fleeting day, 



556 ON BUFFALO CREEK. 

Some thirty squirrels added to our store. 

Sport had to end, for next day was our last; 

A full supply of game was gathered up — 

Yes, more than we could wish or carry home; 

And yet we could not leave for one day more. 

It was the holy Sabbath of the Lord ; 

With garments brushed, and person clean and neat, 

We walked together to the house of prayer. 

The room was filled, the worshipers sincere, 

The songs devotional, the sermon good, 

'Twas said, while tears of holy joy were seen; 

It was a holy Sabbath-day well spent. 

Next day we left for home, all in good health, 

Delighted with our trip and friends we met. 

And left behind, not soon to be forgot. 

In weather, comfort, health, and sport, our trip 

Was a success in all those words import. 

And should we live until another year. 

And Providence permit, we'll go again. 

Let those who wish to try their luck, 

And know not where to go. 
Waste not their time at other streams. 

But go to Buffalo. 1867. 



]VIISCELL^]SrY. 



Family Government. 

THERE is no doubt that such a thing as family gov- 
ernment exists, but what it is, and how constituted, 
is not so easily determined; yet we hear of family gov- 
ernment every day; Ave have always been connected 
with it, but I am at a loss to describe it. There is no 
written code of laws laid down, and no set time when 
laws and rules are made. It is not a republican form of 
government; it is not a monarchy, for there is usually 
a complicated head to this kind of government. The 
generally received opinion is that the parents are the 
governors, and the children are the governed. 

There is one remarkable feature in this government, 
which is this: the same party make the laws, sit as 
judge, act as jurors, and then administer or execute; 
so that one might suppose they would have things their 
own way. It is not to be wondered at if we should 
find a great want of uniformity on the one hand, and 
great inconsistencies on the other; and while it is not 
our intention, at present, to examine the wrongs and 
errors which characterize this government as it often 
exists, yet a few of the defects thereof may be men- 
tioned with propriety. 

It is sometimes all law, and neither administration 
nor penalty; at other times there seems to be penalty 

(557) 



558 PAMir.Y GOVERNMENT. 

without the command or mandate. Sometimes great 
offenses are overlooked, while at other times very small 
offenses are severely punished. We think it probable 
that, in the main, there are too many laws passed, and, 
when enacted, not well defined. Wherever this is the 
case there will be trouble, and not a little of it, unless 
the parents should permit the subjects to violate their 
laws wnth impunity; in such case the government re- 
solves itself into anarchy, and becomes as no govern- 
ment at all. At one time we find the governor of the 
family exceedingly rigid, at another time very careless 
and indifferent. Some insist on the necessity of corpo- 
real punishment, and the whole penal code finds its 
answer in a beech -rod ; others ignore corporeal punish- 
ment, and do all by a kind of moral lecture, which is 
generally called scolding; others purchase obedience 
by promises of presents, or by favors promised or im- 
mediately bestowed. All pass laws, we will admit. 
One procures obedience by whipping the child; an- 
other gives it candy, or a toy, or a book to tear in 
pieces; another always makes a mere external term of 
the present, with a promise of full trial and punish- 
ment at the next term, and the consequence is that 
some live as under the control of a fickle and bloody 
tyrant; others learn to behave badly, that they may 
receive some nice thing to induce them to desist from 
their evil practices for the time, while others learn to 
treat the law and the government with contempt. In 
other cases the united head divides, and the child takes 
protection under the lenient party. 

I should say, Let the laws be few, well defined, and 
faithfully executed, always having in view the good of 
the governed. Do not suffer yourself to be provoked 
into a promise, either of punishment or indulgence, 



SUPERSTITION. 



559 



which you do not think right in itself, or you will find 
yourself under the necessity of punishing unjustly, or 
granting indulgences which may not be for the good 
of the child, or of appearing inconsistent, and subject 
to the charge of falling short in your promise. 



Superstition. 

The fact that more or less superstition is found in 
all countries and among all kinds of people is evidence 
at once that there is in human nature a strong tend- 
ency to that condition of mind; and it is not true that 
it is confined to the most ignorant claeses. Heathen 
mythology and the legends of the Middle Ages abun- 
dantly establish the fixct that men of education and in- 
tellect are to be numbered with the superstitious. The 
only remedy is found in the revelation which God has 
made of himself and the relation that he sustains to all 
inferior beings. Wherever the word of God is not in 
the hands of the people, you may expect to find the 
greatest evidence of the existence of superstition. 

It is perfectly natural to man, when he sees or hears 
any thing that is not within the range of his knowl- 
edge or experience, to attribute it to some supernatural 
agency; and this of itself would lead the mind to the 
conclusion that there are beings so constituted as to be 
able to confer with those who belong to the future state, 
and also address themselves to the senses of mankind. 
The general impression with regard to such beings is 
that they are able to make themselves visible or invis- 
ible at will; that man cannot contend against them 
with such weapons as are generally employed in earthly 
wars; that they are not governed by any known law, 



660 SUPERSTITION. 

and especially are not subject to the laws of nature; 
they are generally regarded as possessing great wis- 
dom and a mysterious power; some of them are good, 
others bad; and yet the best of them are dreaded by 
the superstitious. 

There is yet another variety of this same thing. An 
effect is seen and felt by some poor mortal, yet no well- 
defined cause, or agent, of any kind is understood or 
perceived. The best explanation of this peculiar cast 
of superstition that I am able to give is that there are 
certain laws which operate on man, producing a well- 
defined result, Avhile the law itself remains hidden in 
mystery. Simply the thing is done, and no one knows 
how or by whom. This peculiar kind of superstition 
is found in our own country, and I am not sure that I 
myself am free from it. It is one thing to condemn it 
and s^Dcak lightly of it in others, but it is quite another 
thing to eradicate it from our own minds. There are 
certain places and times of the day in which it is be- 
lieved that these generally invisible beings may be seen. 
They never reveal themselves in the light of day — at 
least, that is not the time when the}^ are looked for — 
neither do we think of finding them in an open, smooth 
country; but we expect them to appear at night, and 
we look for them about old waste houses, that are re- 
ported to be haunted. The fact is, no one likes to wan- 
der through an old, deserted house at the gloomy hour 
of midnight. Just ask yourself how you would like to 
enter in at that old, open door, when the dim light of 
the feeble stars brings to view only some of the boldest 
outlines of the interior, and grope your way from door 
to door, and from room to room, and then climb the 
crumbling, creaking stair-way, all alone; and suppose 
the house was said to be haunted ! But you say you 



SUPERSTITION. 561 

do not believe there are amy haunted places. No mat- 
ter — we only say it is the popular belief that there are. 
How would you like it, reader? I, for one, have no 
fancy for such explorations. Then there is another 
place — the spot where some person was murdered. 
The rejDort has gone out that the bloody stains could 
not be washed away by the rain, and that the murderer 
was detected by a man being taken up on suspicion, 
and they brought him to the murdered man, and made 
him touch the corpse, and the wounds instantly com- 
menced bleeding, and that horses tremble with fright 
when they pass the place at night, and that strange 
sights and sounds have been seen and heard there. 
And then that old grave-yard! If there was another 
road just as near, and it was night, and you alone, do 
you not think you would prefer to travel that way? 
Spirit-rapping, fortune-telling, and other similar delu- 
sions, are all maintained by superstition; and then 
there are conditions in life that are thought to be in 
sympathy with mysterious agencies — such as hermits, 
old women who live alone and have a great many cats 
about the house, and a dog that howls every night. 
There are also certain circumstances which attend the 
birth of children, that are supposed to endow them 
with a capacity of seeing spirits; and the seventh son 
has a mystic power over diseases, and can cure various 
ills by means unknown to other people. 

And now, to the other department of superstition. 
Do you think Friday a bad day on which to move or 
commence a journey? Do you find yourself trying to 
see the new moon without the intervention of green 
trees? Do you make a cross-mark in the road, and 
spit in it, when you forget something and have to turn 
back? Do you think that meat diminishes in boiling if 



562 BISHOP SOULE. 

killed in the decrease of the moon? Do you think that 
you will lose a friend because you dreamed that one of 
your teeth dropped out? Did you ever send to a faith- 
doctor, or bloody a nail against the gums of your teeth 
and drive it into a tree to cure the toothache? Did 
you ever measure yourself against the wall and make 
a mark, that you might outgrow the phthisis? Did 
you ever think a child was not long for this world just 
because it said some smart thing when it was quite 
small? Do you not sow your turnips in the dark of 
the moon? Do you believe in presentiments — that 
misfortunes cast their shadows before them? 



Bishop Soule.* 



My good opinion of Bishop Soule was bespoken be- 
fore I had the pleasure of his acquaintance. In my 
early ministry, when I was quite a youth, I was se- 
lected by Bishop McKendree as his traveling-compan- 
ion, and was taken into the confidence of that great 
man of God. He loved me as a son, and I esteemed 
him as a father. I heard him speak so often of Joshua — 
as he always called Bishop Soule — in terms so exalted 
and complimentary, both with respect to his intellect 
and purity of heart and purpose, that I was prepared 
to find in Bishop Soule all the elements of a great and 
good man ; and I must confess that my enlarged expec- 
tations were more than realized. The greater portion 
of such great men, in order to be seen to advantage, 
have to be viewed from a selected stand-point, and 
under favorable lights; but it was not so with our be- 
loved Bishop. It mattered not where the beholder 

"•••An address before the Baltimore Conference, 1867. 



BISHOP SOULE. - 563 

stood, or how the light fell upon him, he was always 
seen to advantage. As a man, he was highly endowed — 
nature was choice in her bestowments. If he had 
been proportionately reduced in his gifts and appoint- 
ments to the capacity of an inferior creature, he would 
have been acknowledged by all animated nature a lion ; 
and it has more than once occurred to me, that if I had 
gone with some erratic being, an inhabitant of some 
other planet, who had visited our earth to see what 
manner of beings were to be found here below, and 
wished to find a specimen of the highest type, I should 
have pointed out to him Bishop Soule as the being he 
was seeking. He was an honor to our race, and made 
a near approach to the perfection of humanity in the 
entireness of human nature — such was his personal ap- 
pearance, that in walking the streets of New Orleans 
the Frenchmen along the pavements would shrug their 
shoulders and exclaim, "?7?i grand gentillwmme;'' and 
when walking through an Indian camp, these sons of 
the forest would say of him, '■'■Estahastted skigustustio!^^ 
— what a great chief! In passing through the streets of 
London, crowds have followed to look at him, believing 
that he was Lord Wellington, who was regarded as the 
best sj^ecimen of humanity in Great Britain. I say 
this much with respect to the person of our Bishop, 
because many now before me never enjoyed the privi- 
lege of seeing him. 

It sometimes happens that the intellect of men dis- 
appoints expectations created by their personal aj^pear- 
ance; but it was not so with Bishop Soule; intellectu- 
ally he was all, and more than, his appearance indicated, 
and it was difficult to determine what division of his 
mental powers most to admire. His perception, his 
powers of analysis, his sound judgment and good taste. 



564 BISHOP SOULE. 

all stood forth in bold relief. If he had connected 
himself with a school of philosophers, he would have 
been the president; if he had chosen the legal profes- 
sion, he would have been the chief-justice; had he 
sought fame as a soldier, the highest position as a 
leader would have been accorded him by his comrades- 
in-arms; and had he turned his attention to finance, 
he would have been secretary of the nation's excheq- 
uer. He was never small, never trifling, never com- 
mon. In the highest sense of the term, he was an 
original thinker; in shaping his course or laying his 
phms, he never looked for blazes or human tracks; with 
him the right wa}^ was always the best — hard or easy 
did not enter into the estimate with him — no matter 
what difficullies might present themselves, he always 
took the right wiij. 

In regard to his moral and religious character and 
early connection with the Methodist Church, he was 
guided alone by a conviction of right; it was not the 
result of nursery-training or the dictation of his par- 
ents, nor of scholastic influence; so far from it that his 
choice was opposed b}^ his father, and greatl}^ affected 
his mother; he was a Methodist from principle. He 
w^as thought to be slow sometimes in coming to his 
conclusions; but he always made up his mind from his 
own convictions, and when his mind was made up he 
was as firm as a rock; and you will permit me here to 
observe that the views and opinions which led him to 
make up his mind as he did in the division of the 
Church, in 1844, were never changed or departed from 
even to a hair's breadth. He was also a progressive 
man — always falling in with such changes in the 
Church as were indicated by the advancements of so- 
ciety and changed condition of the country; and as he 



BISHOP SOULE. 565 

grew old, he took on none of the acerbity which is too 
common to old age, but his whole nature seemed to be- 
come more sweet and holy. It was really refreshing 
to see how he carried the infirmities of age — instead 
of their operating upon him as a disadvantage, he w^oro 
them as ornaments. 

But you are particularly interested in hearing some- 
thing with resj^ect to his last hours. On the eve of 
leaving my home for this city, having understood that 
he was very ill, I hastened to his bed-side, and had 
probably the last connected conversation with him that 
he held with any person. On reaching his house, the 
brother who was attending upon him told him that I 
was there and wished to see him; to which he replied 
by saying, "Come in." I entered the room, took him 
by the hand, and said, " I am sorry to find you in bed. 
Bishop." To which he answered by saying, "Yes, I 
am in bed, and of my own accord will rise up no more." 
After conversing Avith him a few moments with respect 
to the nature and character of his attack, he said, "I 
shall die, there is no doubt of it; it is impossible for 
me to get up again." I at length said to him: "I am 
on my waj'' to Baltimore, where I shall see several of 
your colleagues, and quite a number of preachers, as 
well as other persons, and all will be anxious to hear 
from you." He lay silent for a few moments, then, lay- 
ing his hand upon his breast, said, " Tell them all for 
me that notwithstanding this heart and flesh are fail- 
ing, my hope and my faith are as firm as the rock of 
ages." He farther told me that there was one hymn 
which he thought he might with propriety a2:)propriate 
to himself; and on inquiring what hymn it was, he re- 
plied by reciting the hymn beginning with this line — 
Servant of Gorl, well clone! 



566 BISHOP souLE. 

and never have I heard any lines of human composi- 
tion enunciated with so much power as in his render- 
ing of the first half-stanza, which is as follows: 

Servant of God, well done! 

Kest from thy loved employ ; 
The battle fought, the vict'ry won, 

Enter thy Master's joy. 

In repeating the last line, "Enter thy Master's joy," he 
reached forth his hand toward heaven, his whole face 
flamed with joy, while tears poured from his eyes, and 
for a moment laid upon his checks. I did not see the 
angel-hand that dried them away; but those were his 
last tears — he will weep no more. 

In the course of conversation, reference was made to 
the length of time he had been serving God and the 
Church; in reply to which he said: "A servant is one 
who obeys his master, and I have been endeavoring 
for manj^ years to obey my Heavenly Master; and 
sometimes the service as rendered by myself seemed 
pretty hard, but no matter, I have made it the business 
of ray life to obey; but my day of service is nearly 
closed. There is one command which I have not yet 
obeyed, for the reason that it has not been given." 
"What command is that? "asked a brother. "It is this," 
said the Bishop, "'Come up higher.' I am waiting for 
that command; it will soon be given, and I shall obey 
it." The command did come, and the Bishop has gone 
up, and if there are any such things as heavenly ush- 
ers. I should think that he was introduced by Bishop 
McKendree; and I have imagined that I saw him 
placing the crown upon the head of his beloved Joshua, 
as he always called him. 

Your names, my beloved fathers and brethren, were 
deeply and tenderly engraven upon his great, loving 



THE PULPIT. 567 

heart; and O how glorious the hour when he shall be 
united again with his colleagues and brethren whom 
he so much loved ! 



The Pulpit. 



I HAVE seen several articles lately on the subject of 
the power and efficiency of the pulpit. Several writers 
have asserted that the pulpit has lost its power to some 
extent. It is not the object of this article to raise the 
question of correctness with regard to the contents of 
said articles, but to present some views from a different 
stand-point. 

I have for years held the opinion that the pulpit was 
in danger of a loss of power from a cause or causes not 
taken into account by any writer whose productions I 
have read. 

One cause of the decline of pulpit-power has arisen 
from a clamor, on the part of Church -going people, for 
short sermons. This demand has been yielded to by 
the ministry to an extent which has, in many congre- 
gations, so lessened the efficiency of the pulpit as to 
render it almost powerless for good. 

No great gospel truth can be presented, elaborated, 
and enforced in fifteen or twenty minutes; and just as 
soon as there is a conflict between the "service" and 
tUe sermon, and the rights of the latter are intrenched 
upon by the former, the aggressive element will suffer 
damage, and, soon or late, the Church will become 
formal, and ultimately decline; and when other agen- 
cies shall be substituted in the place of the pulpit, a 
departure will be taken from the plan adopted by the 
great Head of the Church for subduing and Christian- 
izing the w^orld. An increased interest may be taken 



568 THE PULPIT. 

in those means and agencies by which the Church is 
to be built up and the cause of God promoted among 
men — such as Sunday-schools, prayer-meetings, expe- 
rience-meetings, religious books and periodicals, all of 
which are very valuable in their place — but to substi- 
tute these for the preaching of the gospel will defeat 
the great object contemplated. It is by preaching the 
gospel that the powers of darkness are to be driven 
back; by preaching Christ and him crucified the bat- 
teries of sin and unbelief are to be silenced, and the 
strongholds of infidelity are to be carried; for by 
preaching the Church becomes aggressive and drives 
back the enemy, and opens the way for other agencies. 
[t will not do to say that the preacher by a lecture of 
tiftcen minutes once a week shall achieve the great 
work which is to be accomplished by the pulpit. To 
limit the preacher to any particular number of minutes 
is not to be allowed. The preacher should have an ob- 
ject to accomplish in every sermon, and he, and he 
alone, can determine when that object is accomplished. 
I should much rather see the pulpit relieved hy the 
laity of all other work or employment. Let the sing- 
ing, the public prayer, and all matters that pertain to 
finance, be taken in hand by others, and let the preacher 
do nothing but preach and attend to necessary j^astoral 
work. To this end let him turn all his thoughts, all 
his time, all his strength; let him be handed from pul- 
pit to pulpit, with the everlasting gospel to preach; 
let every other duty and obligation be taken from him, 
and let him be a man of one work; let him go, and as he 
goes preach; let him preach Christ and him crucified. 
Then the pulpit will become a power, and the preacher 
a messenger sent from God, not to serve tables, not to 
take charge of temporal things, not to settle abstract 



THE PULPIT. 569 

and difficult questions in science, not to discuss the 
politics of the day; but let him be a man of one work, 
and let that work be the jDreaching of the gospel. A 
preacher of a partial consecration will never accom- 
plish the full work of a gospel preacher. It is a work 
which requires all the powers of mind and body, and 
when given up wholly to this work, he may still say, 
"Who is sufficient for these things?" 

Now, these -may be regarded by some as extreme 
views, but let the reader stop and think of the charac- 
ter of the work to be done, and then ask himself the 
question. What time will the minister of Christ have to 
apj^ropriate to any other work? 

One other difficulty which greatly diminishes the effi- 
ciency of the pulpit at the present day is that a very 
large amount of what a great many of the j^reachers 
of late years have to say is not heard by the congrega- 
tion. Much of the introductory service is not heard; 
the number of the hymn, the lessons, the iirst part of 
the prayer, do not reach the ear of the congregation. 
The voice of the preacher is keyed too low, while much 
that is said is but a little above a whisper, and then 
there is a struggle to hear the text. But the difficulty 
in hearing is not altogether in the lowness of the voice 
of the preacher; it often happens that while a part of 
a sentence is a mere whisper, another part is a scream. 
The words are thrown from the lips of the preacher 
like an explosion ; the sound rings in your ears so as to 
almost deafen you, but the word spoken is not heard. 
No long word can be clearly spoken in a scream. If 
preachers wish to be understood, they must cease whis- 
pering and screaming, and talk as God has intended 
and as nature directs. Artistic speaking cannot he heard. 

Another difficulty is that many words are loaded 



570 OLD BENHADAD. 

down with emphasis till they are lost, and the sense is 
destroyed. Learn to talk loud and plain, and do not 
sink down into a graceful whisper, nor raise your voice 
until a blood-vessel is in danger; speak in a natural 
tone of voice, never allowing it to flill below that key, 
and so distinctly that every person in your audience 
may easily hear you. Do not try to say too many 
words in one breath ; keep your lungs full. Eemember 
that if a word is worth being spoken at all, it is worth 
being spoken so as to be heard. By following this plan 
you will be listened to with attention, your throat will 
not be lacerated, nor your life prematurely worn out. 
I merely throw out these hints because of the many 
complaints made by Church-goers that they cannot 
hear the preacher. 

Old Benhadad. 

There are a number of Church -loafers, who think 
that because they belong to the Church it must take 
care of them while they live in idleness; and I have 
sometimes met with camp-meeting loafers. I distinctly 
remember one of the latter class, with whom I was quite 
well acquainted when I was but a boy. What his name 
was I never knew; the boys called him Old Benhadad; 
I think I heard him say once, about the close of the 
camp-meeting season, that he had been at fourteen that 
summer and autumn. He was not a preacher, nor ex- 
horter, nor class-leader; neither did he pray in public, 
and could not sing at all. He was a singular-looking 
creature: low in stature, and inclined to obesity; his 
head was as round as an apple, and perfectly bald; his 
right eye was much larger than the left, which raised 
the eyebrow on that side out of line with the other, 



OLD BENHADAD. 571 

while the eye itself seemed to have wandered off to the 
right, as if it had quarreled with its comrade, and had 
resolved to have nothing more to do with it. His cos- 
tume was peculiar. At that time the round-breasted 
coat, with other garments to match, was the prevailing 
fashion ; but Old Benhadad never had a complete ward- 
robe, his clothing having been acquired piece by piece, 
as he found persons who were so benevolent as to give 
him half-worn articles of apparel. His coat was in the 
proper style — a full, round breast, long in the waist, 
the tails reaching down to the calves of his legs. His 
vest was entirely inconsistent with his coat; it was a 
spotted velvet, double-breasted, rolling collar, with 
round, bright-looking buttons, fastened on with rings 
through the loops. His pantaloons did not approach a 
fit, having been originally intended for some person 
who was tall and slender; and Old Benhadad being 
fashioned with the contour of a demijohn, the panta- 
loons were remarkably tight around the waist and the 
subjacent regions, while they were gathered in many 
folds about his feet. He had little to say to any person, 
but was rarely absent from two places — the camp at 
meal-time, and the stand when service commenced. As 
he could not assist in either preaching, praying, or sing- 
ing, and thinking that he ought to do something to 
heljo the meeting along, he would at intervals make a 
spring, jump as high as he could, throw up his arms, 
and utter one loud scream, like that of a wild Indian, 
and gradually modulate his voice with the words, "O 
Lord, revive thy work from the ends of the rivers to 
the ends of the yeath ! " and then resume his seat. This 
he generally did at the most tranquil moments, as he 
knew that he could not attract much attention while 
other people were engaged in active exercises. He en- 



572 OLD BENHADAD. 

deiivored to do as much business as he could on a small 
capital. 

I shall never forget one of his jumps. He was at- 
tending a camp-meeting held by the Rev. Mr. M., in 
]^orth Alabama. Mr. M. was a superior preacher, and 
particularly gifted in superintending a camp-meeting. 
In order that one point in this story may be under- 
stood, it will be necessary to make a brief digression. 
In those days camp-meetings suffered great annoyance 
from persons who came to them for the purpose of 
barter and trade in such commodities as apples, cider, 
melons, cakes, and whisky. As usual, the last article 
caused the greatest trouble; and as it was carefully 
concealed from persons in authority, the Rev. Mr. M. 
often said that he did not know how it was that an 
apple-and-cider cart always bred whisky. So he de- 
termined to keep all the traders away; but at this 
meeting a Dutchman came to him, and asked for per- 
mission to sell mead. Mr. M. thought he said meat, and 
so he did; but he intended to say mead, and no doubt 
thought he had said it as plainly as anybody could 
say it. Mr. M. gave him permission, thinking that he 
was a butcher, and that the campers might wish to 
purchase fresh meat from him. The apple-and-cider 
boys seeing the Dutchman put up his mead establish- 
ment, thought the prohibitory laws had been repealed, 
and they all commenced business. Mr. M. had no little 
trouble to have them removed ; so that apples had made 
a strong impression on his mind. 

Now, let us return to our subject. It was Monday 
night, and the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was 
about to be administered. The course of procedure 
adopted by Mr. M. was first to read his hymn, then de- 
liver an appropriate address, then sing, and then conse- 



OLD BENHADAD. 573 

crate the elements. He had upon the hand-board a 
pitcher of water, a glass, two candles in candlesticks, a 
large Family Bible, a hymn-book, and a Discipline; 
and having finished reading his hymn, he had taken off 
his spectacles, and laid them on the hand-board. The 
hand-board, as we called it, was a poplar plank about 
eight feet long, twelve inches wide, and one inch thick. 
It was supported by two or three upright stanchions, 
projecting about nine inches beyond them at each end. 
Old Benhadad was seated on a bench that was placed 
close against the pulpit, and exactly under the project- 
ing end of the board ; and just as the preacher had laid 
down his gold spectacles and hymn-book, back upward 
so as to keep it open till the time came to sing, and was 
taking a long breath before commencing his address. 
Old Benhadad thought that was the time for him, as all 
was still; so he screamed as though he had discovered 
the world to be on fire, at the same time jumping di- 
rectly upward with all his might. He struck his little 
round, bald head against the bottom of the plank, split- 
ting it off" from end to end; and down came plank, 
pitcher, glass of water, Bible, hymn-book. Discipline, 
both candles, and spectacles, all tumbling together. 
The pitcher of water fell on a lady and her child, which 
lay in her lap; the tumbler of water went down the 
back of Old Benhadad, and suddenly arrested his "ends 
of the river and ends of the yeath " prayer; for he 
never finished it. For a moment no one knew what 
was coming next, till the preacher said, "Brethren, can 
you sing a song until we get fixed up again?" and sat 
down beside a young minister who was sitting in the 
pulpit. While some persons were employed in nailing 
up the hand-board, and gathering the scattered arti- 
cles, Mr. M. moved close to the young preacher, and. 



574 OLD BENHADAD. 

gnawing his thumb-nail (which was his custom when 
troubled), he whispered, "I will give that old fellow a 
dozen of aj^ples if he will prove his attendance and go 
home." 

Now, this old man lived at least six months of the 
year at camp-meetings and protracted-meetings; and 
when one was over, he had only to go home with some 
brother to get his shirt washed and his shoes greased, 
and he was ready for another. 

There is yet another kind of idler, for whom I can- 
not find a better name than the " counting-room loafer." 
I remember that at one period of my life I came within 
half a degree of assuming this character myself. I 
contracted the habit of going every day, when I was 
not otherwise employed, first to the post-office, and 
then to the store of Mr. M., where I would meet two or 
three kindred spirits, and we would talk and spin yarns 
for hours. The thing that saved me was this: I heard 
that some person had said that if he could get " Chip of 
the Old Block" at M.'s store, comfortably seated, with 
his legs crossed, he would talk for hours. The thought 
instantly occurred to me, "What do I go to Mr. M.'s 
store for? I have no business there, and I shall not go 
again until I have." Mr. M.* thought that I had be- 
come offended, until I had an opportunity to explain; 
and from that day to this I have made it a point not to 
go anywhere unless I had some kind of business to 
transact there. 

There is one stand-point from which a view of the 
character of loafers never fails to affect me, and that is 
when an individual of the lowest grade of the species 
comes within my observation. He has no home, no 
friend, no means; when he eats one meal, he knows 
*The Kev. John Morrow, an old and vakied friend of Dr. Green. 



THE MEMOSER. 575 

not where he is to get the next. He knows not during 
the day where he is to rest at night. Having no 
character to protect, he is destitute of the stimulants 
that excite to action; never repels an insult. And who 
knows what becomes of him? Who ever saw one of 
this character die? But they do die. Who ever closed 
their eyes or attended their funerals? Where is the 
choir that sang their funeral-hymn, or the church-bell 
that tolled their departure? Who ever saw the long, 
slow-moving, line of carriages that followed such a 
one to the grave? And where stands the polished 
marble, throwing back the light of the pale moon, 
guarding the spot where the once houseless, homeless, 
friendless loafer now sleeps? This recalls the familiar 

stanza: 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; 

Thus unlnmented let me die; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 

Tell where I lie. 



The Memoser. 



We were talking of old times in the department of 
old-field school education; and notwithstanding the 
improvement in system, and also in teachers, has kept 
up with the growth of the country and its institutions, 
yet, from the scenes of Sleepy Hollow to the present 
day, we now and then meet with one of the descend- 
ants of Ichabod Crane. 

Kot many years ago you might have seen in one of 
the quiet corners of Middle Tennessee, near a large 
creek or small river, a genuine old-field school-house. 
The country round about was rather wild and frontier- 



576 THE MEMOSER. 

like; the scenery was bold and picturesque. The 
teacher was a regular-built Buckeye. He was pretty 
well educated, sanguine in temperament, very inquis- 
itive, and somewhat ambitious; and I shall have no 
better opportunity of introducing him than the present. 
His person was rather prepossessing, of medium size, 
fair skin, blue eyes, light hair, with clean-shaved face; 
not what the ladies would call a fancy-man — not being 
particularly devoted to dress, yet he was good-looking. 
He had traveled but little, and had not mixed much 
with the world; and being confiding in disposition and 
sanguine in temperament, was rather easily imposed 
upon. He was boarding with a Mr. R., a plain, quiet, 
old-fashioned man, of very few words, and apparently 
not the least inclined to any thing like a joke. 

On the river a few miles above Mr. E., there lived a 
Mr. D., who had put a fish-trap into the stream, and 
soon discovered that his own negroes, together with 
those of his neighbors, were taking all the fish out. 
In order to keep the negroes away from his trap ho 
raised a story and circulated it among the colored peo- 
ple, to the efi'ect that there was a kind of amphibious 
animal, half fish and half beast, that inhabited the 
caves along the river, of which there were quite a num- 
ber. He called this mysterious animal, or monster, a 
"memoser;" represented it as of prodigious strength, 
and fearless, and that it had a great love for fish and 
human flesh, especiall}^ negro flesh; he also repre- 
sented it as a great feeder — that it would eat a fish -trap 
full of fish at one time, and that a dead negro would 
not make more than two meals; that it was not dan- 
gerous so much on account of its bad temper as its ap- 
petite, and just as soon as it came across any thing it 
liked it would begin to eat at once, and although you 



THE MEMOSER. 577 

fought with all your might, it would still eat on; and 
that by the time a body w^as half eaten up, he would 
be mighty apt to die; and he farther gave out as a rea- 
son wh}^ a certain negro who had been drowned in the 
stream a short time before could not be found, that the 
memoser had gotten him. This stratagem was suc- 
cessful — the fish -trap was protected. Not long after 
this Mr. E. built a fish -trap, and having heard of Mr. 
D.'s plan of protecting his fish, took advantage of the 
presence of a number of his own servants one evening 
to tell about the strange animal that had made its ap- 
pearance in the river, and of its love for fish and negro 
flesh, and how the black folks were alarmed about it 
up at Mr. D.'s; reciting the matter so gravely and so 
much like history, that the school-master — who was 
present — believed it as firmly as the negroes. This 
school-master — whom we shall call Mr. Sloaps — at last 
began to make inquiries about the animal, and soon 
came to see both money and reputation in it, believing 
it no small achievement to add a new animal to the 
acknowledged list of God's creatures, and thereby be 
a contributor to natural history; for he said that the 
creature was not laid down in any of the books; and 
farther, that he had no doubt that he could get a large 
sum of money for one of them from some museum in 
the eastern cities. 

Mr. E. discovering that Mr. Sloaps had taken the 
wliole story as a verity, determined to see what he 
could m.ake out of him, and went on to tell Sloaps that 
he did not want to be fooling with any such monster; 
the idea of being caught by it and one-half of him to 
be eaten for supper, and the rest to be borne off" to 
some watery cave for the beast to make his breakfast 
ofi" of, did not suit him. Mr. S. said that he would not 
25 



578 THE MEMOSER. 

be the least afraid of it if he had a good gun. Mr. 
E. had as good a gun as was ever fired, but was not a 
very good shot himself; but if Sloaps would take the 
gun and risk it, some night after the fish began to run 
they would go to the trap and see what could be done. 
This was agreed to. Mr. E. made his plans known to 
his overseer and his wife, and none else. The trap 
was made to take fish as they descended the stream, 
and such traps are mainty successful in the autumn; 
the fish, running up in the spring to spawn and raise 
their young, return to deeper streams for winter-quar- 
ters. Mr. E.'s plan was that the overseer, without the 
knowledge of Sloaps, should go up the stream above 
the traps, and, throwing himself into the river, come 
down and enter the trap in his own way, and receive 
the fire of Sloaps, which was to be nothing more than 
a small portion of powder and a light paper wad; for 
Mr. E. was to load the gun with great care for Sloaps. 

At length there came a little swell in the river, and 
it was thought there would be a sufficient number of 
fish coming into the trap to tempt the memoser to pay 
it a visit, so the double-barreled shot-gun was loaded, 
and Mr. E. and Sloaps started for the river. At the 
jtoint where the trap was put in, the river was seventy 
yards wide, and the trap was about midway, and 
reached by a canoe. The water below the dam was 
some five feet deep, with a pretty strong current. The 
river-shore was a bluff clay bank, about ten feet high, 
l»ut at the canoe-landing the water was apj^roached by 
a deep, narrow cut. 

The night was dark, but by the use of the canoe E. 
and Sloaps made their way to the trap, and there they 
sat waiting for the memoser. At length here it came 
down the stream, growling and plunging at a dreadful 



THE MEMOSER. 579 

rate. The overseer thinking that, as the water in the 
river was yet low, the fall into the trap might be so 
great as to cut and bruise him, went to the shore, re- 
turned to w^here he had left his clothes, put them on, 
and made his w^ay home. Mr. E. told Sloaps, after the 
memoser disappeared, that there were generally two 
of them — an old and a young one; that the young one 
was a little timid, but the old one was not afraid of 
any thing; and he had no doubt that it was the young 
one they saw that night, and they might look out for 
the old one the next night. So they returned home 
and reported. By the next night the river had swollen 
so as to make the fall into the trap perfectly safe. Im- 
mediately after dark Mr. E. and Sloaps were again on 
the spot — Sloaps on the trap, with his gun all ready, 
and E. sitting on one of the main timbers that sup- 
ported it, holding the cable of the canoe in his hand. 
The night was dark, save here and there a beam from 
a star would struggle through the trees that lined the 
shore. At length here came the memoser, and no mis- 
take, plunging, growling, and snapping. Said E., "He 
is coming." "I hear him," said Sloaps. "Be certain 
that you make a sure shot." "Never mind; let him 
come, and I'll give him goss! " 

Closer and closer it came; and E. said that although 
he knew who it was, yet the darkness of the night, the 
angry growl, and the heavy plunges, all taken together, 
made it a frightful sort of business. 

Just as the memoser reached the fall of the trap, Mr. 
E. threw the cable into the canoe, jumped into it him- 
self, and made for the shore, screaming to Sloaps to 
save himself, if he could. Sloaps fired one barrel, but 
without effect. A moment more, and the other barrel 
was discharged. Still the monster was unhurt. Sloaps, 



580 THE MEMOSER. 

with a wild, despairing wail, threw the gun one way, 
and jumped as flir as he could in the opposite direction 
into the river; but he had hardly struck the water be- 
fore the memoser was in close behind him, almost 
ready to lay hold on him. He tried swimming, and 
jumping, and all kinds of modes, so as to get on, and 
finally reached the bank some twenty yards below the 
canoe-landing, but happened to strike it w^here a large 
sycamore-tree had thrown out a number of roots, which 
he took advantage of, and in an almost miraculous man- 
ner made his way to the top of the bank. To go to 
the path w^iich led out from the canoe-landing would 
have been twenty yards out of his way, and as the me- 
moser was almost up the bank, he concluded that 
nothing but a bee-line would save him, and that ran 
through a dark, swampy bottom, into which he plunged 
like a wild beast. He had already lost his gun and hat 
in the river, and had not proceeded far before he struck 
his foot against a log, and fell headlong, running his 
arms into the mud up to his elbows. Here he lost his 
shoes; but what of that? it only increased his flight. 
After leaving the swamp he had to pass through a nar- 
row lane, in which a number of cows were lying, and 
aiming to spring over one of them, the cow at the same 
moment getting up, brought his feet in contact with 
her back, which turned him a complete somersault; 
but he was up and off in a moment. The gate was 
passed, and knowing the front-door was locked, and 
having no time to wait for it to be opened, he made for 
the back-door, but seeing the kitchen-door open, and 
it being a little nearer than the other, he pitched into 
the kitchen among the negroes, who were already in a 
state of alarm about the memoser, knowing that Mr. 
Sloaps and master had gone to try and kill it. Sloaps 



THE MEMOSER. 581 

was a frightful-looking object — no hat, no shoes, wet, 
and covered with mud. He was so out of breath that 
he could not speak ; his lungs were working like an old 
rickety engine ; all that he could say for some time was, 
"Olaw! Ah me!" The negroes, almost scared to death, 
began to scream, which brought in Mrs. E., who in- 
quired, "What in the world is the matter?" By this 
time Sloaps had recovered sufficiently to speak a few 
words, and answered, "It came." 

"What came?" asked Mrs. E. 

"The old one," said Sloaps. 

"Where is your gun?" 

"In the river." 

"And where are your hat and shoes?" 

Tie did not know. 

"Where is my husband?" 

"Ah!" said he, "it's got him; the last time I heard 
him he was hollerin' mighty weak." 

When poor Sloaps heard that it was all a trick, he 
sloped from that neighborhood. 

When I am at home I have the honor to belono- to an 
angling club, the members of which go once a year on 
a camp-angling trip into the iron hills of Tennessee. 
On a certain occasion, as we sat around the camp-fire, 
I related to the party the story of Mr. Sloaps and the 
memoser. There was one present who was a sort of 
fixture among us; his name was Dick — a servant be- 
longing to a member of the club, generally known as 
Uncle Nick. Dick caught points of the story here and 
there, and being strongly tinctured with a love of the 
marvelous, it required no eff'ort of his faith to believe 
it; and there were many things on the stream in which 
we were angling that would justify the idea that the 
memoser might be found there. The banks were very 



582 THE MEMOSER. 

much burrowed by the great number of amphibious 
animals which there abounded, and in the bluffs were 
numerous caves and dens. Within a few hundred 
yards of the camp was an old rickety mill, all tied up 
with strings, like a negro's gourd banjo, and connected 
with the machinery was an alarm. The mill ground 
so slowly that the miller, who was also a farmer, could 
not afford to keep any person waiting upon it; so when 
he had put up a turn he would go off to superintend his 
farming operations. When the grist was reduced to 
about a half bushel, the hopj^er would rise about one 
inch, bringing an old saw-blade in contact with the 
runner, and producing the most unearthly, incompar- 
able, w^iizzing, hissing, grating sounds that have ever 
been heard by mortal ears. 

During our stay at this camp, we alt agreed one night 
to go and fish awhile. A large portion of the club 
went to a favorite point some distance off, while Uncle 
Nick, Dick, and myself, went to the mill. The stream, 
pitching over the dam, had washed out a pool just be- 
low, in the form of nearly one-third of a circle. Uncle 
Nick took his position on the outer point of this circle, 
I about midway, and Dick close to the mill. Between 
Dick and myself, lining the water's edge, was a thick 
growth of sycamore-bushes about ten feet high, and 
communication between the two points was effected by 
a small path which lay near a rocky bluff. As night 
came on, the sun seemed to hasten as though he wished 
to get as far away as possible; the moon had gone 
round to see wiiat the people in China were doing; the 
stars had put on mourning in the drapery of murky 
clouds; and there seemed to be no light in the world 
save the ghastly, flickering glare of Uncle Nick's tin 
lantern. Truly the night was inky black, and all nat- 



THE MEMOSER. 583 

ure seemed dead, except the roar of the water over the 
dam, and the rumbling of the old mill-wheel, which 
went reeling and staggering around like a drunkard. 
All at once the alarm commenced, and it occurred to 
me that it would frighten Dick if he did not know what 
it was; for the memoser story was fresh upon his mind. 
I looked over, by the aid of Uncle Nick's lantern, and 
there stood Dick, looking, with all the eyes and light 
that he had, in about the mill-wheel, whence the noise 
seemed to proceed. At length, turning toward his mas- 
ter, he said, "Massa Nick, do you hear dis ting here?" 
His master paid him no attention. He then thought I 
was the next best chance, and he asked me, "Do you 
hear dis ting?" At that moment there was a little 
breath of air, w^hich seemed to increase all sounds, and 
I remarked, " Dick, it seems to be getting closer to you." 
That was enough ; he dropped his pole, and dashed like 
a wild boar into the thicket; whether he went through, 
or over, or under the bushes, I could not tell. He was 
the worst scared negro I have ever seen, and to this 
day he believes that it was the memoser; nor could he 
ever afterw^ard be induced to fish near that mill at night. 
On one occasion, when talking to him about going there 
to fish at night, he said that if he was taken there at 
all, he would have to be taken dead. 



POETRY. 

The Rev. S. D. Baldwin, D.D.* - 

THE wing of death was o'er the city spread, 
And anxiously the hearts of thousands throbbed; 
While some had fled, as Lot, and left the j)lains, 
In which, of old, devoted Sodom stood. 
Others remained, but not without their fears, 
For 'twas no common foe that might be met 
With glittering sword, and spear, and shield. 
The smile, the merry laugh of gladdened hearts, 
Like injured friends, were seen and heard no more. 
The bench, the box, the bar, were left alone. 
The pris'ner to his gloomy cell returned. 
And litigation's dusty hall was closed. 
While strangely quiet grew the market-place; 
The business man, with measured step, and slow, 
In silent mood went to his place of trade; 
And cautiously he oped his sullen door. 
As though the foe in hidden corner dwelt; 
And now with match or flaming taper lit, 
To drive it forth he disinfectant burned. 
Both thought and feeling were all kindred now. 
And fell in line like soldiers under drill; 
And every man by sad impulses knew 
The thoughts and feelings of his neighbor's heart. 
But some there were whose business 'twas to see 
The sick, and such as friendless were, 
Who lay w^ithin the monster's deadly grasp. 

-^Commemorative of his death by cholera, in Nashville, 1866. 

(584) 



THE REV. S. D. BALDWIN, D.D. 585 



The skillful master of the healing art, 
The man of prayer and minister of God: 
These, with the gloomy, slowly-moving hearse. 
And such as to the grave went with their dead, 
And those Avho bore prescriptions to the sick. 
Mainly make up the signs of life without. 
Thus passed the long, the sad, the weary days. 
At night the pestilence in violence greAv: 
Men were afraid to sleep lest they might wake 
And find themselves within its deadly grasp. 
Protecting nostrums on each mantel stood. 
And fires were kindled on the summer hearth, 
And lighted lamps and jets were left to burn 
Throughout the dark and lonely hours of night; 
And prayers were whispered by unpracticed tongues. 

But there was one who was well known by all 
By his devotion to the sick and poor. 
Nightly the ring of old McKendree's bell 
Brought out the anxious multitudes to prayer, 
And scores did at the sacred altar bow. 
And prayed, and wept, and made their peace with God. 
This faithful watchman stood on Zion's walls. 
And long and loud the gospel-trumpet blew. 
Complaining not until his strength gave way; 
But still the sick, the poor, his presence claimed. 
And consolation such as comes alone 
From promises in God's most holy word ; 
And for their good alone he overdrew 
Upon his time, his rest, his health, his strength. 
The fell destroyer's power at length was staid, 
The sick were mostly convalescent now, 
And men began to feel the worst was past; 
And now it was this faithful man of God 
Was heard to say, "The calls on me are few; 
The sufferers now," he said, "are lessening fast; 
I hope and trust that I shall rest to-night." 
At the appointed time he thanked his God, 
And laid him down upon his bed to rest, 



586 THE REV. S. D. BALDWIN, D.D. 

But ere the rosy dawn he woke and found 

The dark-winged angel's shadow o'er him spread: 

He felt the deadly damps, and he was sick — 

The faithful minister of God was sick. 

From lip to lip the sad news passed along, 

And ere the day grew old this truth was known 

Throughout the Church, and far beyond it flew, 

For all that knew him loved him ardently, 

And few there were to whom he was not known. 

Physicians to his side in haste repaired. 

And thought with care he soon would be relieved. 

This was the holy Sabbath of the Lord; 

The church-bell loudly rang, as was its wont, 

To herald forth the blessed hour of prayer: 

The faithful shepherd did not meet his flock — 

They hoped and prayed that he might soon be well; 

But on the morrow he grew worse again. 

The Church and all his friends were anxious now, 

And as one heart the common feeling shared; 

Uncalled physicians quickly came, and went, 

And tarried long beside the good man's bed; 

While in the mart, and all along the streets, 

Each man you met with deepest interest asked. 

How stands the case with our loved pastor now? 

The growing interest reached the city's heart, 

And orders came that no disturbing wheels 

Should by his dwelling pass, that he might rest; 

While softly those within, with feet unshod. 

Passed gently through his room and round his bed; 

While those who gifted are with power to heal 

Each symptom watched, with unabated care. 

His tongue, his skin, his breathing, and his pulse. 

And warmed his blood with artificial heat, 

And scathing blisters drew, but all in vain. 

The foe was now intrenched, and had the range, 

And could not be by human power dislodged; 

E'en faithful prayer was unavailing now. 

Death was the sick man's wish and God's decree! 



THE REV. S. D. BALDWIN, D.D. 587 

'Twas said at length, His strength is giving way, 

His skin is growing cold, his breathing sliort, 

His weak and struggling pulse more faintly beats, 

While the chilled blood is stealing round the heart. 

In circles constantly diminishing. 

Now hastened to his side a long-tried friend, 

To whom for years he had united been 

By ties which naught but Christian friendship makes, 

And bowing down beside the sick man's bed, 

They thus together talked, and wept, and prayed. 

" How is my brother now?" he kindly asked. 
The man of God then oped his languid eyes. 
Inclined his head, and recognition gave. 
And to the question, " Dost thou sutler much ?" 
In gentle tones, " Not much," was his reply. 

" How is the inner man, th' immortal soul?" 
With heavenly smile, " In perfect health," he said; 

"Ah! all is right in that department now." 
'Twas then a sleepless friend, who vigils kept 
By day and night, with more than brother's care, 
Softened his lips with a few drops of wine. 
To give him strength and aid his feeble speech. 
When this was done he calmly spoke these words: 

"I'll drink it in my Father's kingdom new — 
The fullness of that promise is unknown! " 
And then we prayed that God would safely lead 
His faithful servant through the vale of death. 
A silence now ensued — the sick man lay 
With eyes intent on objects seen by none 
Save those whom God hath blessed with gifted sight, 
A friend then ask'd, " How are thy thoughts employed?" 

" Expanding glories of the future state 
Are full in view," he said ; " I see them now 1 " 
His eyes now calmly closed, he spake no more. 
Then every sense was shut on earthly things, 
And opened on his mansion in the sky; 
He now was standing on the flowery mount. 
Viewing tho land of Bculah and the scenes beyond — 



588 THE REV. ELISHA CARR. 

The throne of God, the pilgnm's final home, 
'Twas here he met God's angels from above, 
And heard his Saviour call. Up higher come ! 
He dropped the sickle from his trembling hand, 
And gathering up his numerous sheaves, 
And with the victor's shout upon his tongue, 
He passed beyond the everlasting hills. 
And only left his shattered tent behind. 
But still we have his dust ; it sleeps beside 
The dearly loved companion of his youth. 
They were united while they lived on earth, 
And not divided are they now in death. 



The Rev. Elisha Carr. 

Well done, faithful pilgrim, thy labors are o'er; 

No longer shalt thou o'er a fallen world weep; 
Thy prayers and thy teachings, we'll hear them no more; 

Thy day's work is done, its reward thou shalt reap. 

We'll miss thee, my brother, we'll miss thee at prayer; 

Thy voice round the altar we'll ne'er hear again; 
To our home in the dust thou wilt no more repair; 

Thou art gone to the land of the blest to remain ! 

You '11 be missed by the orphans, you '11 be missed by the poor; 

For advice and for comfort they'll now look in vain; 
Your footprints no more we shall trace to their door. 

Where sorrowing hearts are throbbing with pain. 

You'll be missed by the children, the lambs of the fold; 

They knew you, and loved you, and hung on your word ; 
They '11 treasure your counsels as jewels of gold. 

While mem'ry shall cherish the lessons they 've heard. 

You '11 be missed by the prisoners in gloom, and alone, 
Your counsels and prayers they will no longer hear, 

With promises bright and as cheering as noon, 
AVhen no other friend or comfort was near. 



THE REV. a. W. D. HARRIS, D.D. 589 

You'll be missed by the widow, with lone bleeding heart, 
All crushed by bereavement, in grief left alone, 

While her throbbing breast heaves as tho' pierced with a dart, 
While the bright sun of life set in darkness at noon. 



The Rev. G. W. D. Harris, D.D 



* 



Forty-eight years ago I saw him stand 
Amid his brethren in the house of God, 
To pledge himself to God's most holy cause. 
To bear the tidings of redeeming love 
Unto a world that by transgression fell; 
And to each question asked he answers gave 
Which proved to all that he had been with God, 
And had been chosen to proclaim his word; 
And heaven and earth agreed, as with one voice, 
To send him forth a herald of the cross. 
And then and there he put his armor on, 
And, sword in hand, he rushed into the fight, 
And ne'er put off his sword, or armor by, 
Till Heaven said, " Well done ! it is enough ! " 
He was well suited to his holy work; 
He bore the marks of manhood in his prime; 
His head was clear, his heart was right with God. 
His will, that gives support to other powers. 
Was strong as is the pure and hammered steel. 
He sought no easy berth from toil and strife. 
But pressed the center of the common foe. 
He made no terms with sin but to repent, 
And in the name of Christ a pardon find. 
With flesh and blood he never did confer, 
Or flee the burdens which his brethren bore. 
In action he was true as truth itself. 
And yet he was as just as he was true. 
It may be said he was a leader born- 
Prompt in command, but ready to obey. 



* Written on the occasion of his death. 



590 LONELINESS. 

To save the lost was his intense desire; 

And to accomplish this he wavered not 

Because of length of road, or winter's day. 

He plunged the streams, and braved the stormy blast, 

To preach the gospel to the humble poor ; 

No firmer hand ere grasped the battle-flag. 

He feared not wicked men nor savage beasts, 

Nor changed his course to follow beaten paths; 

He was a leader, and spied out his way. 

Uncertain sounds his trumpet never gave. 

Nor wasted strength in battling with the wind. 

His voice w^as strong and clear, his manner grand; 

His words were chosen well — each in its place — 

The burden of his theme the cross of Christ. 

He warned the sinner of his dreadful end, 

And lit the pathway of the child of God 

With Heaven's promise of a rich reward. 

He labored not in vain: God was with him, 

And from his trump rang notes of victory. 

But when I saw him last on Zion's walls. 

His locks were thin, his native strength well spent. 

He blew a bugle-note of victory; 

It was his last; his work on earth was done. 

And ere one week had passed away and gone, 

He heard the call from labor to rew'ard. 

He sow^ed in tears, but now he reaps in joy. 

His parchment, now as free from blot or stain 

As the untrodden snow from polar skies. 

He rendered up, and in its stead received 

A fadeless crown of life at God's riijht-hand. 



Loneliness. 



I WOULD not be a lonely star, 

Of ancient birth and brilliant light, 
To shine alone on empty air 

The live-long night. 



LINES ON LERISSA HUGHES. O^^ 

I would not be a lonely flower, 

Of odor sweet and lovely hue, 
To rest my head on some lone bower, 

And drink the dew. 

I would not be a lonely dove, 

Of plumage soft and plaintive song — 

had I not a friend to love, 
Life would be long! 

1 would not be a lonely saint, 

Though heaven itself should be my own ; 
Without a friend my heart would faint, 
Thus left alone. 



Lines on Lerissa Hughes. 

The mountain-oak within its native wood. 

How strong its trunk ! how deep it dips its roots 

Among the ancient rocks or solid earth, 

Like anchors cast within the ocean depth. 

To hold the bark amid the raging storm ! 

See how it lifts its proud, defiant head, 

With arms unfolded wide to catch the breeze, 

Or drink the dew, or kiss the light of morn! 

It withered not because of summer's heat, 

Nor did it fail amid the winter's cold; 

It rocked beneath the heavings of the storm. 

But yet its well-laid anchors held it fast. 

And yielded not, but still the storm defied. 

At last there came a worm of shapeless form. 

Appearance mean, contemptible in size — 

Fit food for tlie young sparrow in its nest — 

Which, unobserved and slow, its work began, 

Inserting in the veins of the proud oak 

A subtle virus of a deadly kind. 

And soon it witlicrod, drooped, and died away; 



592 LINES ON LERISSA HUGHES. 

Defying long the storm, died by a worm. 

These thoughts came to my mind the other day, 

As I beheld the father of Lerissa. 

She was his last, the darling of his life ; 

Her presence cheered his heart and smoothed his brow, 

The center figure in his household group; 

But since Lerissa passed from earth away, 

To sing among the saints that dwell in light. 

The strong man who had braved the storm of life, 

And never quailed in presence of the foe, 

Has failed at last; his manly head is bowed. 

To him the birds have ceased to sing their songs; 

Each lovely flower droops on its parent stem; 

The light of day passed from his door away, 

Because Lerissa left his earthly home. 

Kind father, now lift up your drooping head — 

Lerissa dwells within your Father's house; 

You see her not, but she 's Lerissa still ; 

You'll find her where the saints and angels dwell. 



THE END. 



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